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MASTGR 


A 


MASTER  BARTLEMY 


THE  THANKFUL  HEART 


1  HE     SAT   DOWN    ON    ONE    OF    THE     BENCHES     UNDER   THE   LATTICES,    AND 
MISS    NANCY   SAT   BESIDE    HIM."—  Page    122. 


MASTER   BARTLEMY 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART 


BY 

FRANCES    E.    CROMPTON 

Author  of  "Friday's  Child" 


NEW    YORK 

E.    P.    BUTTON    AND    COMPANY 

31    WEST   TWENTY-THIRD    STREET 
I  802 


Copyright,   1892 

BY    E.    P.    DUTTON    AND    COMPANY 


dl  anil 
BOSTON 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

"  HE  SAT  DOWN  ON  ONE  OF  THE  BENCHES 
UNDER  THE  LATTICES,  AND  MlSS  NANCY 
SAT  BESIDE  HIM  " Frontispiece 

"  SHE  SAT  UPRIGHT  WITH  ONE  TOE  ON 

THE  FLOOR" 19 

"HE  WAS  SPEAKING  ALOUD" 41 

"ARRAYED  IN  A  SINGULAR  COLLECTION  OF 

GARMENTS" 91 

"THERE  WERE  WORDS  CUT  IN  THE  STONE"  113 


^- 


MASTER    BARTLEMY; 

OR, 

THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


I. 


TT  was  Miss  Nancy's  birthday.     She  was 
ten  years  old,  and  she  had  had  a  visit- 
or of  her  own.     And  at  Miss  Nancy's  age, 
to  have  a  birthday  is    greatness ;    but    to 


I0  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

have  a  particular  and  personal  visitor,  real 
and  grown  up  (not  to  say  elderly),  this  is 
preferable  to  calling  the  king  one's  uncle. 
She  had  had  birthday  presents,  but  this 
may  happen  to  any  one,  and  had  occurred 
before  to  Miss  Nancy  herself. 

There  was  the  Shetland  pony  from  the 
squire,  though  to  be  sure  this  had  been 
promised  so  long  that  it  did  not  seem  to 
have  much  real  connection  with  the  birth- 
day, especially  as  you  could  not  have  it 
with  you  in  the  house  ;  and  there  was  the 
prayer-book  from  Aunt  Norreys,  with  a 
red  back  and  a  silver  clasp.  Miss  Nancy 
gratefully  acknowledged  that  everybody 
had  been  very  kind  to  her,  from  Mrs. 
Plummett,  who  had  made  the  birthday 
cake  with  her  own  hands,  down  to  poor 
Bettie  the  under  housemaid,  who  had 
presented  a  humble  offering  in  the  shape 
of  a  purple  silk  pincushion,  stuffed  with 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  \\ 

bran  to  an  inconceivable  extent  of  tight- 
ness, and  bearing  in  pin-heads  the  strag- 
gling device,  "  My  Lov,"  which  trifling 
error  Miss  Nancy,  a  delicate  little  person, 
both  by  nature  and  upbringing,  would 
have  blushed  to  observe,  and  the  legend 
remained  as  unaltered  as  poor  Betty's  lov 
itself. 

Even  Trimmer,  the  stern,  had  given 
Miss  Nancy  a  white  and  gold  china 
poodle  ;  and  although  the  white  and 
gold  poodle  may  be  an  uncommon 
animal  in  real  life,  he  looked  charming 
in  china,  sitting  tastefully  on  a  ground 
of  blue,  which  is  well  known  to  be  the 
color  of  true  affection.  Miss  Nancy 
had,  with  the  friendly  aid  of  a  chair,  set 
him  up  on  the  tall  chimney-piece,  from 
which  elevation  he  stared  fixedly  and 
unmeaningly  down  upon  her;  and  look- 
ing up  at  him  in  return,  and  thinking 


12  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

with  remorse  of  all  the  pinafores  she 
had  torn,  and  all  the  shoes  she  had 
dirtied,  and  all  the  extra  washings  and 
brushings  she  had  inconveniently  re- 
quired at  irregular  hours,  Miss  Nancy 
felt  Trimmer's  high-minded  forgiveness 
to  be  more  moving  than  language  would 
fittingly  express. 

Arminel  Anne  Throgmorton  was  her 
name,  —  her  Sunday  name,  as  she  was 
accustomed  to  think,  having  but  rarely 
any  other  use  for  it  than  in  the  catechism 
of  Sunday  afternoon.  Nancy  was  the 
name  of  dear  daddy's  giving  and  the 
name  of  every  day,  and  Miss  Throgmorton 
was  commonly  only  Miss  Nancy.  She 
had,  perhaps,  at  times  wished  that  she  had 
been  endowed  with  a  more  ornamental 
and  fashionable  name ;  but  as  one  grand- 
mother had  been  Anne  Norreys,  and  the 
other  had  been  Arminel  Throgmorton, 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  13 

Miss  Nancy  quite    saw  that  it  could  not 
have    been   avoided. 

She  had  had  a  holiday  in  honor  of  her 
birthday,  and  Trimmer  had  even  gone  to 
the  length  of  saying  that  she  was  going 
down  to  the  village  for  an  hour,  and  Miss 
Nancy  might  get  out  all  her  toys  and 
take  up  the  whole  of  the  table  if  she  liked. 
Not  that  Miss  Nancy,  though  an  only 
child,  had  any  unmanageable  number  of 
toys ;  for  she  did  not  live  in  this  present 
degenerate  day  of  profusion  in  children's 
amusements,  and  the  playthings  grown 
old  in  the  service  of  two  or  three  genera- 
tions were  considered  an  ample  provision 
for  any  one.  The  very  best  doll  in  all  the 
collection  was  only  a  venerable  and  dang- 
ling lady,  with  a  pink  kid  body,  and  a 
painted  face,  as  ugly  as  might  well  be. 
Miss  Nancy  certainly  valued  her  toys  as 
toys  used  to  be  valued ;  but  they  did  not 


14  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

lie  very  near  her  heart.  A  game  with 
them  generally  took  the  rather  forlorn 
form  of  laying  them  out  in  a  solemn  row, 
sitting  by  them  till  tea-time,  and  then 
silently  replacing  them  in  the  cupboard. 
And  even  the  pink  kid  lady,  in  her  best 
yellow  satin  slip  and  real  morocco  shoes, 
had  failed  to  satisfy  Miss  Nancy's  soul 
to-day. 

She  knelt  on  the  floor  by  the  window- 
seat,  so  that  she  could  rest  her  arms  on 
the  seat,  and  her  chin  on  her  hands,  and 
look  out  at  the  prospect,  which  from  this 
point  of  view  did  not  embrace  more  than 
the  upper  branches  of  the  great  elm-trees, 
with  the  rooks  swinging  in  their  nodding 
tops  in  a  high  spring  wind,  for  Miss 
Nancy's  birthday  fell  early  in  the  year.  It 
was  not  an  extensive  prospect  without, 
but  it  was  more  interesting  to  her  than  the 
one  within,  —  the  panelled  walls  and  floor 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  15 

painted  brown,  the  tiled  fireplace  and 
brass  irons,  the  spindle-legged  table 
with  round  leaves,  the  wooden-seated 
chairs,  the  cupboard  where  Miss  Nancy's 
small  possessions  were  kept,  the  dignified 
and  indifferent  gray  cat  on  the  hearth, 
and  the  tall,  polished  clock  with  the  brass 
face,  and  brass  balls  at  the  corners,  and 
the  fingers  that  moved  round  in  jerks,  and 
works  that  groaned  and  wheezed  for  very 
age. 

But  now  Miss  Nancy  had  a  visitor.  To 
begin  with,  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  a  man's  footstep. 

"  You  can  come  in,  Bailey.  It  is  only 
me,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  well  meaningly, 
however  ungrammatically.  The  door 
opened,  but  Bailey  seemed  to  stand  still 
in  a  very  unnatural  manner,  and  Miss 
Nancy  looked  over  her  shoulder,  to  see  no 
Bailey,  but  a  living  gentleman,  rather  an 


1 6  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

old  gentleman,  and  quite  a  strange  one. 
Miss  Nancy  scrambled  to  her  feet  with 
what  would  have  been  alarm  if  the  old 
gentleman's  appearance  had  not  disarmed 
suspicion.  He  was  smiling  very  cheer- 
fully, and  holding  out  his  hand  to  her. 

"  I  am  quite  well,  thank  you,"  said  Miss 
Nancy  at  random,  being  for  the  moment 
thrown  into  some  confusion. 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it,"  said  the  old 
gentleman.  "  You  do  not  know  me,  do 
you  ?  But  I  am  the  new  rector." 

"  Trimmer  is  out,"  said  Miss  Nancy, 
doubtfully.  "She  has  gone  to  the  vil- 
lage. And  Aunt  Norreys  has  gone  to  St. 
Edmund's.  And  I  do  not  know  where 
daddy  is." 

"  I  have  been  walking  with  him,"  said 
the  rector,  "  and  now  I  have  come  to  see 
you." 

"Me?" 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  17 

"  Yes,  I  have  come  to  see  you,"  re- 
peated the  rector,  with  a  gravity  that 
Miss  Nancy  could  not  but  consider  flatter- 
ing to  a  degree. 

"Because  of  my  birthday?"  she  said, 
feeling  that  at  ten  one  begins  to  grow  up. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  rector,  waiving 
the  point,  "  I  knew  the  squire  many  years 
ago,  and  now  I  should  like  to  know  his 
little  daughter  too." 

Miss  Nancy  politely  assented.  She 
scarcely  knew  exactly  what  you  ought  to 
do  when  you  have  a  visitor  of  your  own, 
but,  guided  by  a  general  strong  sense  of 
manners,  she  dragged  one  of  the  hardest 
and  slimmest  of  chairs  by  its  forelegs  from 
the  wall,  and  invited  the  rector  to  sit  down, 
which  he  did,  bowing  his  thanks,  and 
drawing  one  out  for  her,  —  by  the  back, 
as  more  convenient  to  him  than  the  low 
level  of  the  legs.  Miss  Nancy  infinitely 


1 8  MASTER    BARTLEMY. 

preferred  kneeling  on  the  floor,  with  her 
arms  on  the  seat;  but  this  was,  of  course, 
not  to  be.  contemplated  on  such  an  occa- 
sion as  the  present,  which  demanded  all 
the  deportment  of  which  a  person  was 
capable ;  and  having  smoothed  down  her 
pinafore,  she  sat  upright  with  one  toe  on 
the  floor,  and  the  other  dangling  at  some 
distance  from  it,  waiting,  in  obedience  to 
an  ancient  maxim  which  bade  her  speak 
when  she  was  spoken  to.  She  liked  look- 
ing at  the  rector.  He  was  what  she 
called  an  old  gentleman,  for  on  the 
shadowy  side  of  sixty  one  can  no  longer 
hope  to  be  called  anything  but  elderly ; 
his  hair  was  quite  white,  and  he  scorned 
to  disguise  that  it  had  grown  thin  at  the 
top  years  ago.  He  wore  it  longer  than 
would  now  be  strictly  fashionable ;  it 
hung  on  each  side  of  his  face  in  fleecy 
locks,  —  like  the  apostles  in  the  painted 


'SHE  SAT  UPRIGHT  WITH  ONE  TOE  ON  THE  FLOOR.''  — 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  21 

windows  in  church,  thought  Miss  Nancy. 
The  rector's  coat  was  in  perfect  harmony 
with  his  person,  being  old  also,  and 
far  too  long  and  ample  in  the  skirt  to 
have  any  pretensions  to  the  mode.  Miss 
Nancy  liked  him,  nevertheless.  He 
smiled  at  her,  and  he  had  a  very  pleas- 
ant smile. 

"And  what  is  your  name,  my  little 
maid?  "  he  asked. 

"  Arminel  Anne  Throgmorton,"  said 
Miss  Nancy.  "  But  daddy  says  Nancy." 

"  I  thought  it  might  have  been  some- 
thing else,"  said  the  rector.  "I  thought  it 
might  have  been —  Margaret." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Miss  Nancy,  earnestly. 
"  Daddy  would  not  like  that.  Once  I 
said  I  liked  Margaret  better  than  Nancy, 
and  he  said  '  Yes,  but  there  was  only  one 
Margaret.'  "  For  that  had  been  the  name 
of  Miss  Nancy's  mother,  and  she  was  dead. 


22  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  rector.  "  Ah,  to  be 
sure." 

"  But  I  like  Nancy  better  than  Arminel. 
Because  when  Aunt  Norreys  says  Armi- 
nel, generally  I  have  been  naughty,"  ad- 
mitted Miss  Nancy,  with  regret.  "  I  do 
not  like  Throgmorton  very  much.  You 
cannot  think  what  a  hard  word  it  is  to 
write.  I  used  to  think  it  was  a  very  hard 
word  to  spell.  I  suppose  you  know  how 
to  spell  it?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  rector.  "  I  used  to 
write  it  long  years  ago,  when  I  knew  your 
father." 

"And  did  you  know  him  rather  well?" 

"  I  knew  him  very  well  —  only,  you  see, 
we  have  not  met  for  many,  many  years. 
And  now  he  has  asked  me  to  come  and 
live  here." 

"  And  shall  you  live  here  always?  " 

"  I  trust  I  shall,  my  little  maid.      I  trust 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  23 

that  you  and  I  may  be  friends  as  long  as 
we  live.  How  old  are  you  to-day?  " 

"  I  am  ten,"  replied  Miss  Nancy,  with  a 
ladylike  endeavor  not  to  show  pride  on 
that  account. 

"  And  I  am  more  than  six  times  ten. 
Do  you  think  I  shall  be  too  old  for  you?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  For  if  you  are  not  too  old 
for  me,  and  I  am  not  too  little  for  you,  we 
shall  meet  in  the  middle,"  said  Miss 
Nancy,  with  much  politeness,  if  with  some 
obscurity.  "  There  is  not  any  one  of 
great  friends  but  daddy,  and  Aunt  Nor- 
reys,  and  Trimmer,  and  a  few  of  smaller 
ones." 

"  Then  let  us  shake  hands  upon  it," 
said  the  rector.  Which  Miss  Nancy  and 
he  proceeded  to  do  with  mutual  satisfac- 
tion, and  the  visit  went  on  in  the  greatest 
harmony.  Indeed,  Miss  Nancy  was  by 
this  time  beginning  to  entertain  distinct 


24 


MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 


hopes  of  the  rector  remaining  to  take  tea 
with  her,  when  she  would  be  enabled  to 
serve  him  with  slices  innumerable  from 
Mrs.  Plummett's  birthday  cake,  and 
many,  many  cups  of  tea  —  in  Miss  Nancy's 
eyes  the  patent  of  honorable  years ;  and 
this  she  thought  would  be  a  birthday  feast 
indeed. 

But,  unfortunately,  just  at  the  moment 
when  in  fancy  she  was  liberally  assisting 
the  delighted  rector  to  cake,  for  the  fifth 
time  he  rose  to  go. 

"  Must  you  really  and  truly?  "  said  Miss 
Nancy,  seeing  the  designed  banquet  melt- 
ing away  into  thin  air. 

"  Yes,  I  must  go,"  said  the  rector. 
"  My  little  maid,  before  I  say  good-by, 
let  me  offer  you  all  I  have  to  give."  He 
was  holding  out  his  hand,  and  Miss  Nancy 
thought  it  was  to  take  hers ;  but  he  laid 
it  on  her  head. 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


25 


"  God  bless  you,  my  little  maid  !  "  he 
said. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  rector,  at  the 
door,  "  I  have  come  to  see  you,  and  so 
you  must  come  to  see  me." 

"  In  fair  turns,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  nod- 
ding her  head. 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  rector,  and  bowed 
his  farewell. 

"  Good-by"  said  Miss  Nancy,  endeav- 
oring to  execute  as  perfect  a  courtesy  as 
Aunt  Norreys,  —  a  sweet  but  delusive  hope, 
to  set  a  plain  frock  and  pinafore  against  a 
full  skirt  of  pearl-gray  satin.  And  then 
the  rector  went,  and  Miss  Nancy  took 
him  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  returning  to 
put  the  chairs  in  their  places,  with  the 
feeling  that  after  this  anything  might  be 
expected  to  happen,  and  it  would  be  as 
well  to  be  prepared  for  it.  The  pink  kid 
lady  was  also  restored  to  the  cupboard, 


26  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

for  if  she  had  been  a  little  insufficient 
before,  she  had  now  become  quite 
impossible. 

"  I  have  been  having  a  visitor,"  an- 
nounced Miss  Nancy,  with  quiet  and  set- 
tled satisfaction  when  Trimmer  came  in. 
"  He  came  to  see  me.  Only  me." 

"Who  was  it?"  demanded  Trimmer, 
with  cruel  unbelief. 

"  He  said  he  was  the  new  rector,  and 
I  like  him  very  much,"  said  Miss  Nancy. 
"  He  came  to  see  me.  Only  me.  And 
he  said  I  must  go  and  see  him  next,  and 
I  shall  soon  go." 

But  Trimmer,  standing  with  her  head  in 
the  cupboard,  did  not  receive  the  full 
force  of  Miss  Nancy's  last  observation. 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


27 


II. 


'"THE  squire  was  a  very  shy  man.  The 
Throgmortons  of  Forest  Morton  had 
always  been  slow  to  come  forward  in  any 
respect,  and  the  squire  was  additionally 
characterized  by  that  passive  acquies- 
cence which  often  distinguishes  an  old  and 
almost  worn-out  family.  There  was  no 
older  name  in  the  county,  and  none  that 
had  been  longer  established  in  one  spot 
than  Throgmorton  of  Forest  Morton  ;  but, 
at  the  same  time,  there  was  no  old  name 
less  celebrated,  and  no  house  less  interest- 
ing. The  hall  was  almost  as  ugly  as  man 
could  make  it,  having  been  rebuilt  by  the 


28  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

squire's  grandfather  in  a  style  more  to 
be  remarked  for  solidity  than  beauty.  A 
square  house  of  dark-  red  brick,  a  roof 
almost  flat  disguised  by  a  heavy  stone 
balustrade,  and  rows  of  windows  of  praise- 
worthy equality ;  in  front,  a  paddock 
dotted  with  thorn-trees,  and  a  straight 
drive  between  hurdles ;  on  one  side  of  the 
house,  the  gardens,  on  the  other,  the 
only  remnant  of  the  older  Hall,  the  group 
of  great  elms  where  the  rooks  lived.  The 
interior  of  the  house  was  as  plain,  and 
heavy,  and  dull,  for  there  had  never  been 
much  romance,  never  much  talent,  in  the 
family,  —  a  family  at  no  time  more  (old 
as  it  was)  than  a  line  of  simple  country 
squires,  who  had  been  born  in  Forest 
Morton,  and  had  quietly  lived  there  from 
one  sleepy  year  to  another,  until  they  had 
as  quietly  died,  and  there  been  buried. 
The  squire  was  a  silent  man  from  per- 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


29 


sonal  habit,  and  shy,  with  an  hereditary 
shyness  that  nothing  had  ever  been  able 
to  overcome.  The  habit  of  silence — if 
habit  it  were  —  had  doubtless  grown  upon 
him,  but  it  had  been  a  habit  even  when 
his  wife  was  alive.  Aunt  Norreys  had 
said  to  her  at  times,  "  But,  my  dear 
Margaret,  does  John  Throgmorton  never 
talk  to  you  ? "  And  when  she  came  to 
think  of  it,  the  squire's  wife  had  not  been 
able  to  say  that  he  did ;  and  yet  there 
never  could  have  been  a  more  perfect 
understanding  than  that  which  existed 
between  them. 

The  squire  had  married  his  second 
cousin,  against  the  wishes  of  her  guardian 
aunt,  — for,  properly  speaking,  Aunt  Nor- 
reys was  Miss  Nancy's  great-aunt.  She 
used  to  say,  "  Why  Margaret  married 
him,  /  never  could  tell.  If  she  must 
have  married  a  relation  at  all,  why  could 


30  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OK, 

it  not  have  been  one  of  the  Lester  Nor- 
reys  ?  Of  course  I  have  nothing  at  all 
to  say  against  John  Throgmorton,  for  he 
is  really  a  very  good  sort  of  man,  but  it 
was  quite  incomprehensible,  quite  in- 
comprehensible, my  dear." 

But  Miss  Margaret  had  married  him, 
and  the  most  incomprehensible  part  of 
all  was  that  she  had  never  rued  it.  Per- 
haps she  had  found  more  in  John  Throg- 
morton than  did  the  world  in  general, 
perhaps  she  even  had  found  in  him  all  she 
had  need  to  seek  on  earth.  She  had 
married  him,  and  had  come  to  the  Hall 
to  be  the  light  of  the  house  for  a  brief 
half-dozen  years,  —  and  then  died.  So 
the  squire  and  Miss  Nancy  were  left 
alone,  to  walk  through  the  fields,  and 
drive  down  the  lanes,  and  sit  in  the 
square  pew  at  church,  in  forlorn  com- 
panionship,—  the  big,  silent  squire,  with 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  31 

his  brown  cheeks  and  bushy  beard,  and 
his  little  daughter,  with  her  mother's  dark 
eyes  and  refined  moulding,  but  too  much 
like  the  squire  in  feature  to  have  any 
pretensions  to  beauty.  The  squire  and 
Miss  Nancy  had  learnt  at  this  time  to 
be  a  great  deal  to  each  other,  and  indeed 
the  latter  had  never  felt  that  she  required 
more  company  than  dear  daddy  could 
give  her;  but  her  view  was  necessarily  a 
limited  one,  and  as  usually  happens  in 
such  cases,  to  add  to  a  loss  which  nothing 
in  this  world  could  ever  repair  to  him,  the 
poor  squire  found  himself  plunged  into 
innumerable  difficulties  with  his  house- 
hold. So  Aunt  Norreys  came  to  the 
rescue,  and  remained  for  compassion's 
sake,  and  tranquillity  returned  to  the  Hall. 
With  Aunt  Norreys  and  the  dove  of 
peace  came  Trimmer,  neither  maid  nor 
companion,  and  a  person  whose  severe 


32  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

aspect  involuntarily,  if  unreasonably,  sug- 
gested to  the  mind  the  old  term,  "  wait- 
ing-woman." And  Trimmer  coming  into 
contact  with  Miss  Nancy's  nursemaids 
found  herself  quite  unable  to  agree  with 
any  one  of  them,  and  so  differed  ma- 
terially with  three  in  succession ;  at  which 
point,  for  the  sake  of  a  quiet  life,  which 
Aunt  Norreys  loved  above  everything, 
she  was  permitted  to  ascend  undisputed 
to  the  throne  of  authority,  whence  she 
governed  Miss  Nancy  with  a  wholesome 
if  rather  severe  rule. 

The  only  remnant  of  the  lawless  old 
days  spent  with  daddy  consisted  in  an 
occasional  escape  from  Trimmer,  and  a 
flying  excursion  in  his  company.  The 
squire,  as  Aunt  Norreys  was  fain  to 
admit,  was  an  easy  man  to  live  with,  but 
he  still  preserved  this  reprehensible  habit 
of  coaxing  Miss  Nancy  to  go  out  with 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


33 


him  on  every  possible  occasion.  No  one 
could  ever  see  that  he  took  the  least 
notice  of  her  when  he  had  succeeded  ;  but 
if  the  squire  and  Miss  Nancy  were  satis- 
fied, that  side  of  the  question  could  con- 
cern no  one  else.  The  side  which  con- 
cerned Aunt  Norreys  and  Trimmer  took 
the  form  of  those  hurried  retreats  when 
the  young  lady  had  been  caught  in  storms 
several  miles  from  home,  and,  like  Caro- 
line in  Miss  Nancy's  "  Looking-Glass  for 
the  Mind,"  had  been  compelled  to  re- 
turn home  "  in  a  most  disastrous  con- 
dition." But  it  was  in  vain  that  Trimmer 
appealed  to  Aunt  Norreys,  and  Aunt  Nor- 
reys remonstrated  with  the  squire ;  he 
never  by  any  chance  entered  into  argu- 
ment, and  only  turned  a  deaf  ear  upon 
them.  Perhaps,  indeed,  there  was  some- 
thing about  little  Miss  Nancy's  society 
which  dimly  recalled  to  the  squire  that  of 


34  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

her  dead  mother ;  but  whether  it  were  so 
or  not,  he  never  said.  Miss  Nancy  herself 
had  a  faint  memory  of  her  mother ;  she 
thought  at  times  that  home  had  seemed 
more  when  she  was  quite  little  than  it  had 
ever  done  since,  and  she  believed  that 
it  was  because  mother  was  there.  But 
she  died,  and  it  was  to  be  supposed  that 
it  made  all  the  difference.  Miss  Nancy 
could  remember  that  day,  when,  very 
early  in  the  morning,  Mrs.  Plummett 
came  and  took  her  out  of  bed,  and 
carried  her,  wrapped  in  a  shawl,  to 
mother's  room,  Miss  Nancy  bewildered 
and  half  asleep,  and  Mrs.  Plummett  with 
an  awed  look  on  her  comfortable  face. 

Dear  daddy  sat  very  near  to  the  bed, 
and  Miss  Nancy  sat  on  his  knee,  and 
mother  held  both  their  hands  between 
her  failing  fingers,  but  did  not  speak,  for 
she  was  speechless  then,  and  only  half 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


35 


conscious.  So  Miss  Nancy  was  laid  down 
for  a  moment  to  receive  mother's  strange, 
faint  kiss,  and  then  Mrs.  Plummett  carried 
her  away;  and  Mrs.  Throgmorton  looked 
after  her,  and  turned  her  dying  eyes  again 
to  the  squire. 

And  when  day  came,  the  nurse-maid 
said  that  mother  was  dead.  But  this  Miss 
Nancy  had  not  been  able  to  fully  com- 
prehend, nor  had  she  comprehended  the 
strange  silence  and  desolation  of  the  days 
that  followed.  It  was  certainly  not  that 
she  suffered  then  or  afterwards  an  hour's 
neglect  at  the  hands  of  any  member  of 
the  household ;  it  was  rather  from  feeling 
a  lack  of  something  that  she  was  sure  she 
had  had  once,  but  had  not  then,  and  — 
alas,  poor  little  Miss  Nancy !  —  never 
would  have  again  in  all  her  life,  that  she 
dimly  understood  that  she  had  sustained  a 
great  misfortune. 


36  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

And  Miss  Nancy  had  also  a  vague 
belief  that  it  was  after  this  that  dear 
daddy  began  to  be  even  more  silent  than 
ever  he  had  been  before. 


THE     THANKFUL    HP: ART. 


37 


III. 

x 
"  T    AM    far  from    complaining  of    Miss 

Nancy,"  was  always  Trimmer's 
opening  when  she  zvas  complaining  of  her. 
She  even  went  so  far  sometimes  as  to  say 
that  she  was  a  good  child ;  but  this,  of 
course,  behind  her  back,  lest  Miss  Nancy 
should  become  uplifted.  Miss  Nancy 
was  a  good  child  ;  but  the  best  of  chil- 
dren will  sometimes  do  the  most  un- 
accountable things,  and  who  could  have 
foreseen  such  an  outbreak  as  the  call 
she  paid  at  the  rectory?  It  could  not 
have  been  called  disobedience,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  it  would  never  have 


38  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

occurred  to  any  one  to  forbid  such  an 
impossible  thing. 

Miss  Nancy  herself  acted  from  a  per- 
haps mistaken  but  deeply  grave  sense  of 
propriety.  The  rector  had  said,  "  I  have 
come  to  see  you  ;  now  you  must  come  to 
see  me,"  and  Miss  Nancy  had  said  that 
she  would,  and  a  promise  is  a  promise. 
She  did  not  entirely  like  the  thought  of 
going  alone,  but  she  had  waited  a  whole 
week,  and  neither  daddy,  nor  Aunt  Nor- 
reys,  nor  Trimmer  showed  any  sign  of 
going,  and  what  was  to  be  done? 

So  Miss  Nancy  went  upstairs  one  after- 
noon with  all  the  serious  calm  of  perfect 
unconsciousness.  She  put  on  her  boots 
(sitting  down  on  the  floor  to  achieve  the 
act,  as  one  does  at  ten  years  old)  and 
washed  her  face  and  hands,  and  feeling 
that  the  occasion  demanded  an  effort, 
laboriously  buttoned  herself  into  that  very 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


39 


best  bottle-green  coat  so  peculiarly  hated 
by  her,  which  was  therefore  very  con- 
scientious behavior  on  Miss  Nancy's 
part,  when  she  might  have  chosen  her  old 
red  cloak.  Her  best  bonnet  was  out  of 
reach,  but  she  hoped  the  rector  would 
excuse  her  everyday  one.  Then  she  went 
quietly  and  gravely  downstairs,  and  set 
out  to  pay  her  call,  far  too  much  in 
earnest  to  remember  that  the  drive  was 
well  commanded  by  Aunt  Norreys' 
favorite  window  of  the  white  panelled 
drawing-room. 

Miss  Nancy's  heart  beat  fast  as  she 
opened  the  rectory  gate,  for  she  was  by 
no  means  a  fearless  child ;  but  courage  is 
a  higher  quality  than  fearlessness,  and  she 
inherited  from  the  squire  a  kind  of  silent 
endurance  which  could  be  made  to  serve 
as  courage.  A  straight  walk  ran  up  to 
the  house  between  wide  flower-borders, 


4° 


MASTER    BARTLEMY. 


with  a  hedge  on  either  hand.  There  were 
daffodils  nodding  all  the  way  up  the  bor- 
ders, and  in  the  orchard  hedge  was  an 
almond-tree  in  bloom,  pink  against  the 
blue  sky.  There  in  the  walk  stood  the 
rector  himself,  with  one  hand  under  his 
coat-tails,  and  the  other  waving  gently  in 
the  air.  He  was  speaking  aloud,  and 
Miss  Nancy  thought  at  first  that  he  must 
be  talking  to  some  one  over  the  hedge  ;  but 
as  she  came  up  the  walk,  she  found  that 
he  was  looking  up  at  the  almond-tree,  and 
reciting  with  much  earnest  declamation  of 
a  quaint,  deliberate,  gone-by  style  — 

"  Plant,  Lorde,  in  me,  the  tree  of  godly  lyfe, 
Hedge  me  about  with  Thy  strong  fence  of  faith ; 
If  Thee  it  please,  use  eke  Thy  pruning-knife, 
Lest   that,  O  Lorde !    as  a  good  gardiner  saith  — 
If  suckers  draw  the  sappe  from  bowes  on  hie, 
Perhaps  in  tyme  the  top  of  tree  may  die. 
Let,  Lorde !  this  tree  be  set  within  Thy  garden-wall 
Of  Paradise,  where  grows  no  one  ill  sprig  at  all." 


"HE  WAS  SPEAKING  ALOUD." — Page  40. 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART. 


43 


Miss  Nancy -had  been  taught  that  it  was 
rude  to  interrupt  her  elders,  and  she 
believed  it  would  probably  be  also  wicked 
to  interrupt  what  sounded  like  a  hymn, 
so  she  stood  and  waited  until  the  rector 
had  come  to  an  end,  and  then  advanced 
another  shy  step.  The  rector  turned 
round  and  saw  her. 

"  Dear  me,"  he  said,  putting  on  his 
spectacles,  "  is  this  little  Miss  Nancy?  " 

"Yes,  thank  you,"  said  Miss  Nancy; 
"  and  I  have  come  to  call  on  you  now." 
Miss  Nancy,  though  a  very  simple  child, 
was  not  a  dull  one,  and  there  would  have 
been  a  cruel  awakening  for  her  if  the 
rector  had  even  only  smiled  at  that 
moment,  as  she  stood  looking  up  in  his 
face.  But  the  rector  was  almost  as  simple 
as  Miss  Nancy  herself. 

"  You  do  me  a  great  honor,"  he  said, 
and  taking  off  his  hat,  made  such  a  slow, 


44  MASTER    BARTLEMY  ;     OR, 

deep  bow  as  was  an  admiration  to  behold. 
Miss  Nancy  bowed  likewise,  her  coat  pin- 
ning her  too  tightly  to  admit  of  any 
courtesy.  "  Will  you  come  into  my  house 
and  rest  a  little?  "  said  the  rector. 

"  I  should  like  to  stay  in  your  garden, 
if  you  please,"  replied  Miss  Nancy,  not 
feeling  that  she  strictly  required  a  rest. 

"  By  all  means,"  said  the  rector.  "  Let 
us  go  and  look  how  the  tulips  are  com- 
ing on." 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  that.  I  have  not 
been  in  this  garden  before,"  said  Miss 
Nancy,  to  whom  the  rector's  predecessor 
had  been  rather  a  formidable  personage. 
This  rector  was  different  from  the  first, 
and  Miss  Nancy  slipped  her  hand  into  his 
from  force  of  habit.  The  squire  was 
quite  accustomed  to  it,  but  possibly  the 
rector  was  not.  He  did  not  speak  for  a 
moment,  but  stood  looking  down  at  Miss 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART.  45 

Nancy,  and  when  he  did  speak,  it  was  to 
say  something  quite  unexpected. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  little  maid  !  you 
are  very  like  your  mother." 

"No,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  seriously; 
"  Trimmer  says  I  have  not  got  any  of 
he  •  manners,  and  never  shall  have  any 
of  her  looks.  Then  did  you  know  her?" 

"  Yes,  I  knew  her,"  said  the  rector. 

"  And  didn't  you  love  her?  " 

"  I  did,  my  little  maid." 

"  Yes,  everybody  did,  because  she  was 
so  good.  Trimmer  says  I  never  shall  be 
like  her,  so  it  is  no  use.  Did  you  know 
her  quite  well?  " 

They  had  reached  the  end  of  the  v/alk 
before  the  rector  answered.  "  She  did 
not  know  me  very  well.  I  was  much 
older  than  she  was,  you  see." 

"  But  I  suppose  it  was  a  long  time  ago, 
when  you  were  only  a  little  old?"  sug- 


46  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

gested  Miss  Nancy.  "  You  didn't  live 
here  then,  did  you?  " 

"No,  I  came  to  be  your  father's  tutor, 
when  his  father  died,  and  he  went  to  stay 
at  Willmeadow,  before  he  went  to  col- 
lege." 

"Tutor?"  hazarded  Miss  Nancy. 

"  I  gave  him  lessons,"  said  the  rector, 
smiling. 

"  Oh,  then  daddy  must  have  been  only 
a  little  boy.  I  believed  he  was  quite  big 
when  he  went  to  Willmeadow,  to  live  with 
Aunt  Norreys." 

"  He  was  quite  big.  He  was  grown  up, 
and  these  were  grown-up  lessons,  you 
understand." 

"I  see,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  doubtfully; 
"  but  I  did  not  know  that  grown-up  peo- 
ple ever  had  any  lessons." 

"  Yes,  they  have.  They  have  them, 
indeed,"  said  the  rector,  "  even  when 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART, 


47 


they  are  quite  old,  only  they  generally 
learn  those  by  themselves." 

"  Then  you  must  have  lived  with  Aunt 
Norreys,  and  mother,  and  daddy  at  Will- 
meadow.  I  know  about  that;  sometimes 
Aunt  Norreys  tells  me  stories  of  it.  And 
did  you  go  on  living  there  when  daddy 
went  away?  " 

"  No,  I  went  away  too." 

"With  daddy?" 

"  No,  I  went  alone  ;  quite  away.  I,  too, 
needed  some  lessons,"  said  the  rector. 

"  Mother  came  to  be  here  after  that. 
But  she  died,  I  think,  a  good  many  years 
ago,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  vaguely.  "  Did 
you  know  that  she  died?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  the  rector,  "I  — 
knew  —  " 

And  at  this  very  moment  Trimmer 
came  up  the  walk,  avenging.  There 
could,  perhaps,  be  few  things  more  mor- 


48  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

tifying  to  any  lady  than  to  be  followed 
when  she  has  set  out  to  pay  a  call  of  some 
ceremony,  to  be  caught  just  when  the 
conversation  begins  to  be  easy,  and  to  be 
dragged  back  home  in  the  full  light  of 
day.  In  vain  did  the  rector  try  to  inter- 
cede for  poor  little  Miss  Nancy,  in  pity 
for  her  crimson  cheeks ;  it  was  in  vain ; 
Trimmer  was  respectful,  but  obdurate, 
and  drove  the  culprit  away  before  her,  as 
being  in  disgrace,  and  to  be  made  to  feel 
it.  But  Miss  Nancy  always  did  think 
that  Trimmer  might  at  least  have  waited 
until  they  had  got  outside  the  rectory 
gate  before  she  shook  her.  Only  slight- 
ly, it  is  true,  but  the  ignominy  was  the 
same;  and  in  mute  anguish  of  mind  Miss 
Nancy  was  conducted  into  the  presence 
of  Aunt  Norreys,  to  make  a  full  confes- 
sion. 

"  Arminel,"   said  Aunt  Norreys,  adjust- 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


49 


ing  her  gold  glasses,  "  I  am  astonished, 
perfectly  astonished.  Immediately  tell 
me  the  truth.  Where  have  you  been, 
and  what  have  you  been  doing?" 

"  I  have  been  to  call  at  the  rectory," 
said  Miss  Nancy,  with  bitter  tears,  but 
making  searching  efforts  after  strict  truth. 
"  The  rector  was  in  the  garden,  and  he  is 
very  like  an  apostle." 

"  Arminel,  what  are  you  saying?" 

"  I  mean,  he  has  hair  long  like  an 
apostle's,  and  I  believe  it  is  the  Apostle 
John,  but  an  old  hat,  a  very  old  hat,  older 
than  daddy's,"  sobbed  Miss  Nancy.  "  I 
went  to  see  him  because  he  came  to  see 
me,  for  it  was  to  see  only  me,  whatever 
Trimmer  says.  We  walked  about  the 
garden,  and  saw  the  things  growing,  and 
we  talked  a  little." 

"  Arminel,  what  did  you  say  to  the 
rector?"  demanded  Aunt  Norreys,  with 


5O  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

some  natural  dread  of  what  might  come 
next. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  said  anything  at  all 
naughty,  I  do  not  remember  it,"  sobbed 
Miss  Nancy.  "  We  talked  about  daddy, 
and  the  rector  said  he  knew  mother  a 
long  time  ago.  But  then  Trimmer  came. 
I  think  he  hadn't  minded  that  I  went,  I  do 
think  he  hadn't.  He  said  I  did  him  a 
great  honor." 

"  Arminel,  do  not  be  absurd,"  said 
Aunt  Norreys. 

At  which  point  Miss  Nancy  fell  into 
an  unintelligible  abyss  of  shame  and  grief, 
and  was  sent  upstairs  in  disgrace ;  more 
as  a  preventive  measure  for  the  future, 
than  as  actual  punishment  for  the  past, 
but  a  consolation  rather  poor  in  itself,  and 
not  pointed  out  to  Miss  Nancy,  nor  per- 
ceived by  her. 

But   the  rector   walked  in  the  old  rec- 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART  51 

tory  garden,  and  looked  at  the  nodding 
daffodils,  and  the  almond-tree,  and  the 
white  clouds  on  the  blue  fields  of  heaven, 
and  was  aware  of  an  eloquent  sermon 
stealing  into  heart  and  mind.  He  thought 
he  could  still  see  little  Miss  Nancy  walk- 
ing beside  him  through  the  garden,  and 
it  was  like  some  sweet  old  story  of  the 
spring  that  had  been  told  to  him  long 
ago.  For  it  is  probable  that  the  rector 
had  had  his  own  spring  story  in  his  day, 
and  perhaps  the  memory  of  it  came 
strongly  back  upon  him,  if  he  did  walk 
about  the  garden  with  a  hat  even  older 
than  the  squire's  on  his  white  head,  and 
very  tremendous  spectacles  absently  rid- 
ing high  on  his  nose,  and  his  hands  under 
those  most  unfashionable  coat-tails.  And 
if  one  were  curious  enough  to  ponder  the 
rector's  simple,  high-minded  courtesy  to 
the  meanest  woman  in  his  parish,  one 


5  2  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

might  come  to  understand  that  there  are 
some  blessed  spring  stories,  which  may 
have  no  other  happy  ending  than  this,  — 
that  they  leave  a  heart  the  better  for  their 
coming. 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


53 


IV. 

TN  the  course  of  some  years'  experience, 
Trimmer  had  more  than  once  had  oc- 
casion to  remark  that  Miss  Nancy's  behav- 
ior, like  that  of  many  children,  ran  in 
grooves.  When  she  conducted  herself  in 
a  manner  creditable  to  herself  and  her 
elders,  she  could  be  depended  on  for  days, 
and  even  weeks ;  when  she  did  otherwise, 
Trimmer  was  less  disturbed  in  mind  by 
the  one  deed  committed,  than  by  the 
immediate  prospect  of  others  to  follow. 
Miss  Nancy's  next  exploit  was  the  more 
painful  to  all  properly  constituted  minds, 
because  it  took  place  on  Sunday.  Nay, 


54  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

to  confess  the  truth,  it  was  actually  in 
church. 

It  was  a  Sunday  in  what  might  have 
been  either  late  spring  or  early  summer. 
Miss  Nancy  always  remembered  that  she 
wore  a  new  Leghorn  hat,  and  what  Trim- 
mer called  a  "  lawn  "  frock  with  an  em- 
broidered hem,  cool  and  spotless,  and, 
like  everything  chosen  for  Miss  Nancy 
by  Aunt  Norreys,  plain,  with  that  very 
dainty  plainness  which  is  fine  in  the 
extreme. 

Miss  Nancy  walked  to  church  with  the 
squire  through  the  hall  fields.  Aunt 
Norreys  always  drove,  and  every  Sunday 
it  was  Miss  Nancy's  surest  aim  to  have 
escaped,  and  have  fairly  set  out  with  dear 
daddy,  before  the  lumbering  old  family 
carriage  came  to  the  door.  She  had  suc- 
cessfully evaded  it  to-day,  she  had  safely 
set  out  with  the  squire,  and  she  had 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


55 


plodded  beside  him  through  the  hall 
fields  to  the  churchyard  gate,  in  the  con- 
tented silence  which  always  prevailed  be- 
tween them. 

One  went  through  the  churchyard 
almost  waist  deep  in  meadow  grass,  under 
a'sh-trees  so  ancient  and  spreading  that 
the  little  old  church  seemed  half  covered 
with  the  trees,  and  half  sunk  into  the 
earth.  The  ivy  had  climbed  triumphantly 
to  the  battlements,  making  of  the  tower 
one  vast  nest  for  hundreds  upon  hundreds 
of  birds.  They  flew  out,  chattering  and 
screaming  at  the  sound  of  voices  below, 
and  fluttered  round  the  tower  in  a  cloud, 
— jackdaws,  and  starlings,  and  martins, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  sparrows,  who  were 
everywhere,  and  chiefly  perching  in  rows 
on  the  headstones.  The  porch  was  very 
small  and  sunken,  the  rafters  low  within, 
and  the  roof  without  so  covered  with  ivy 


56  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

and  traveller's-joy,  that  the  doorway  was 
like  the   mouth  of  a  green  cave. 

You  also  went  down  a  step  into  the 
porch,  and  down  another  into  the  church 
itself,  in  a  manner  agreeably  contrary  to 
your  preconceived  ideas,  and  which  nat- 
urally caused  Miss  Nancy,  a  mooning 
child,  as  Trimmer  truly  said  of  her,  to  fall 
forward  into  obscurity  with  an  unseemly 
noise  nearly  every  Sunday  of  her  life.  It 
was  dark  and  cold  within,  after  the  sun- 
shine outside,  the  rafters  were  so  low,  and 
the  flagged  floor  so  sunken  as  to  give  a 
general  impression  of  going  down  into  the 
centre  of  the  earth.  The  ivy  had  crept 
under  the  eaves  into  the  church,  hanging 
in  corners  like  green  banners ;  and  the 
birds  had  followed  the  ivy,  and  fluttered 
here  and  there  all  service  time.  There 
were  pigeons  among  the  rafters  (report 
said  that  Tummus  Trowle,  the  sexton,  was 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  57 

not  quite  guiltless  of  scattering  corn  on 
the  floor  for  them  during  the  week),  and 
on  drowsy  Sunday  afternoons  the  mice 
came  out  and  played  on  the  chancel  floor, 
while  the  bats  flitted  overhead,  like  ghosts 
of  long-dead  mice. 

But  this  was  considered  only  proper  to 
Forest  Morton,  the  smallest  and  oldest 
church  in  the  shire  with  its  primitive 
tower  of  unhewn  stone,  and  rude  belfry 
lights,  its  low  arches,  and  small  windows 
deeply  set  in  the  massive  walls.  It  might 
also  have  boasted  of  that  marvellous  old 
chancel  wood-work,  which  had  no  coun- 
terpart in  all  the  country-side.  It  was 
a  standing  admiration  to  Miss  Nancy,  a 
fanciful  dream  of  figures,  and  leaves,  and 
flowers,  and  sheaves  of  corn,  and  angels 
with  outspread  wings  and  palms  in  their 
hands. 

Miss  Nancy    sat   with    the    squire    and 


58  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OK, 

Aunt  Norreys  in  the  square  Throgmorton 
pew,  with  her  feet  half  a  yard  off  the 
floor,  owing  to  the  shortness  of  her  legs, 
and  her  head  half  a  foot  from  the  pew- 
back,  owing  to  the  width  of  her  hat-brim. 
And  Miss  Nancy  being  rather  small,  and 
the  sides  of  the  pew  rather  high,  the  only 
thing  she  could  see  as  she  sat  was  the 
window  opposite,  a  lattice  of  old  green 
glass,  deep  in  the  wall.  It  stood  open  in 
summer,  to  Miss  Nancy's  great  joy;  for 
the  sunlight  came  through  it  in  a  very 
enlivening  manner,  and  she  could  see  the 
apple-trees  in  Tummus  Trowle's  garden, 
and  the  ash-trees  in  the  churchyard,  and 
the  white  roses  that  flourished  under  the 
sunny  window,  and  nodded  friendly  greet- 
ings, and  even  came  inside  when  occasion 
offered. 

Beneath  the  sunny  window  was  an  old 
friend    of   Miss   Nancy's.     She   looked  at 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART. 


59 


him  every  Sunday,  for  he  was  always 
there,  at  rest  on  his  worn  stone  tomb, 
being  also  stone  himself,  only  he  was  such 
a  dear  old  friend  that  she  had  almost  lost 
sight  of  the  circumstance.  He  lay  in  his 
ruff  and  gown,  with  his  hands  crossed 
very  peacefully  on  his  breast,  and  his 
gentle  face  looking  upward.  He  was  not 
a  Throgmorton.  Miss  Nancy  herself  was 
of  opinion  that  he  was  too  beautiful  to 
have  been  a  Throgmorton,  of  whose  looks 
as  a  race  she  could  not  think  highly. 
Dear  daddy  was  daddy,  and  as  such  for- 
ever to  be  admired ;  but  from  the  dozen 
dull  portraits  at  the  Hall  it  could  only 
have  been  concluded  that  the  Throg- 
mortons  had  been  no  more  handsome 
than  they  had  been  famous. 

All  her  life  Miss  Nancy  had  cherished 
a  deep  affection  for  this  friend,  looking  at 
him  when  she  could  not  understand  the 


6o  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

sermon  (which  was  usually),  and  wonder- 
ing how  long  he  had  been  lying  there  so 
silently,  and  whether  the  roses  peeped  in, 
and  nodded,  and  showered  their  petals  on 
him,  because  they  loved  him.  There 
were  not  many  to  think  upon  him,  and 
the  dust  lay  thick  over  his  body,  and  in 
the  few  remaining  letters  of  the  rubbed 
inscription.  "  Here  ly —  Bartholom — ." 
Tummus  Trowle,  when  he  swept  out  the 
church  (a  thing  that,  to  do  him  justice, 
rarely  occurred  to  him),  called  him 
Master  Bartlemy  and  Miss  Nancy  too 
called  him  Master  Bartlemy,  and  rather 
inclined  to  the  belief  that  he  had  never 
had  any  other  name. 

Miss  Nancy  sat  and  looked  at  him,  very 
upright,  because  of  the  brim  of  her  hat, 
and  very  stiff,  because  her  shoes  dangled 
so  far  from  the  floor.  The  sunshine  came 
in  through  the  open  window,  and  made 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART,  6 1 

a  dancing  pathway,  which  fell  across 
Master  Bartlemy's  face ;  for  Miss  Nancy 
had  observed  that  if  there  were  any  sun- 
shine at  all,  it  always  lingered  there.  He 
lay  and  took  his  rest  very  quietly,  and 
the  buds  of  the  white  roses  peeped  in 
through  the  lattice,  and  nodded  sleepily 
at  him;  and  Miss  Nancy  too  nodded 
sleepily,  and  would  have  fallen  quite 
asleep  if  the  envious  Leghorn  would  have 
permitted  it. 

But  then  there  came  down  a  pigeon 
from  the  darkness  of  the  rafters  and 
settled  on  the  old  tomb,  pluming  himself 
on  Master  Bartlemy's  breast,  with  move- 
ments so  graceful  and  innocent  that  Miss 
Nancy  held  her  breath  for  fear  of  disturb- 
ing him.  And  then  he  began  to  coo 
softly,  opening  his  wings  in  the  sunlight, 
and  nestling  against  the  crossed  hands 
of  him  who  lay  there  as  if,  Miss  Nancy 


62  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

thought,  Master  Bartlemy  might  once 
have  loved  living  creatures  very  dearly. 
But  Miss  Nancy  could  not  watch  him  to 
her  satisfaction,  not  even  by  stretching 
herself  out  to  be  as  thin  and  tall  as  possi- 
ble. Interest  outweighed  every  other 
consideration ;  if  .she  stood  on  the  seat 
she  could  see.  Climbing  was  not  exactly 
churchlike  behavior,  but  Miss  Nancy  dis- 
tinguished between  a  loud  climb  and  a 
soft  climb.  The  squire  was  leaning  back 
in  his  corner  meditating,  with  eyes  half 
closed,  and  Aunt  Norreys  was  leaning 
back  in  hers,  perhaps  meditating  too,  but 
with  eyes  quite  closed.  Miss  Nancy  knelt 
gently  on  the  seat ;  Miss  Nancy  rose  and 
stood  upon  it.  The  pew-sides  were  high, 
but  in  this  commanding  situation  she  was 
higher,  and  the  Leghorn  hat  looked  trium- 
phantly round.  The  church  was  very 
quiet,  the  rector  preaching,  and  at  least  a 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  63 

part  of  the  congregation  engaged  in  sleep. 
It  was  at  this  tranquil  moment  that  the 
cushion  must  slide  away  on  the  seat;  as 
Miss  Nancy  looked  over  the  pew-sides  it 
slipped  farther  and  farther,  and  Miss 
Nancy  came  to  the  ground  with  a  crash. 
Aunt  Norreys,  who  had  been  (possibly) 
asleep,  with  difficulty  suppressed  a  scream  ; 
while  the  squire,  who  had  been  honestly 
meditating,  coughed  as  loudly  as  possible 
to  cover  the  situation. 

But  nothing  could  disguise  the  fact  that 
Miss  Nancy  lay  face  downwards  on  the 
floor,  in  her  clean  lawn  frock,  with  the 
new  Leghorn  hat  under  the  seat. 

"  Arminel !  "  whispered  the  scandalized 
Aunt  Norreys.  Even  the  squire  himself 
said,  "  Hem." 

"  I  have  tumbled  off  the  seat,"  returned 
Miss  Nancy  in  a  muffled  voice,  and  some- 
what superfluously,  considering  that  this 


64  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

was  obvious  to  the  most  casual  ob- 
server. 

"  Immediately  get  up,"  desired  Aunt 
Norreys.  The  squire  more  practically  set 
Miss  Nancy  on  her  feet  and  returned  to 
search  for  the  Leghorn,  while  Miss  Nancy 
stood  wondering  if  there  could  be  any 
spectacle  more  shocking  than  that  of  a 
little  girl  in  church  without  a  hat.  The 
only  thing  that  could  be  urged  in  favor  of 
her  conduct  at  this  moment  was  that  her 
despair  was  at  least  silent,  for  church 
was  still  church  though  one  had  disgraced 
one's  self. 

And  then  the  squire,  having  angled  un- 
der the  seat  with  Aunt  Norreys'  parasol, 
landed  the  Leghorn,  and  set  it  on  its  re- 
pentant owner's  head,  but,  a  little  unfortu- 
nately, back  to  front,  in  which  condition 
Miss  Nancy  was  then  conducted  out  by 
Trimmer,  the  stern,  who  had  suffered  a 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  65 

shock  that  she  could  not  have  been  ex- 
pected to  recover  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

"  What  you  could  have  been  doing  is 
beyond  my  imagination,  Miss  Nancy," 
was  her  first  observation,  after  walking 
half  way  home  in  a  kind  of  stunned  in- 
dignation. 

"  I  only  stood  on  the  seat,  Trimmer.  I 
stood  quite  softly;  I  didn't  know  that  I 
was  going  to  fall  so  hard.  I  didn't  mean 
to  be  wicked  in  church,"  said  Miss  Nancy, 
a  prey  to  the  keenest  remorse.  "  I  only 
wanted  —  " 

"  Well,  what  did  you  want,  Miss 
Nancy?  " 

"  I  only  wanted  to  look  at  one  of  the 
pigeons  that  was  sitting  on  Master  Bart- 
lemy." 

"  On  what,  Miss  Nancy?  " 

"  On  the  gentleman  who  lies  under  the 
window  —  the  stone  one,"  explained  the 


66  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

humbled  Miss  Nancy  apologetically,  turn- 
ing her  hat  round. 

"  Miss  Nancy,"  said  Trimmer,  with  un- 
abated severity,  "  I  am  ashamed  of 
you." 

"  It  sat  so  prettily,  Trimmer,''  faltered 
Miss  Nancy.  "  It  sat  on  his  fingers,  and 
cooed  to  him,  and  Master  Bartlemy 
seemed  to  be  smiling.  I  was  only  look- 
ing a  little,  and  then  I  fell  off  the  seat." 

"  You  cannot  expect  to  do  wrong,  Miss 
Nancy,  and  not  be  punished  for  it,"  said 
Trimmer.  Miss  Nancy  acquiesced  in  si- 
lence ;  but  there  was  a  further  develop- 
ment of  this  point  to  be  considered. 

"  Trimmer,"  she  said,  meekly,  "  do  you 
think  I  shall  be  more  punished  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Nancy,  I  certainly  do,  for 
what  else  can  you  expect?  "  said  Trimmer, 
uncompromisingly,  and  drove  the  debased 
Miss  Nancy  homewards  before  her. 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  67 


V. 


I\A  ISS  NANCY  sat  in  a  window  of  the 
white  panelled  drawing-room,  en- 
gaged in  the  pursuit  of  polite  behavior.  It 
was  a  wet  day,  and  she  had  been  sent  to 
spend  a  sober  afternoon  under  the  eye  of 
Aunt  Norreys,  the  squire  having  evinced  a 
dangerous  inclination  toward  encouraging 
her  to  accompany  him  in  a  walk  across 
the  fields,  a  thing  which  Trimmer  had 
reasonable  grounds  for  guarding  against. 
Miss  Nancy  had  finished  her  appor- 
tioned handkerchief  hem  for  the  day, 
and  had  been  pursuing  good  manners  for 
a  full  hour,  without  more  diversion  than 


68  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OK, 

she  could  find  in  herself,  as  was  the  an- 
tique fashion  of  her  upbringing.  Aunt 
Norreys  could  tell  very  agreeable  tales 
when  she  was  so  inclined ;  but  she  was 
not  always  so  inclined,  and  Miss  Nancy 
did  not  dare  to  press  the  point.  Not  that 
she  found  it  dull  to  be  left  to  herself:  it 
was  a  thing  she  was  quite  accustomed  to  ; 
and  looking  now  out  at  the  rain  falling 
softly  in  straight  lines,  and  the  wet  lawn, 
and  the  stiff  laurel  walk,  and  the  heavy 
peonies  under  the  windows,  and  now  in 
at  the  white  panelled  walls,  and  amber 
satin  curtains,  and  spindle-legged  chairs, 
and  equally  hideous  and  priceless  dragon 
china  in  the  cabinets,  she  had  happily 
pursued  one  train  of  thought,  until  she 
had  arrived  at  a  point  when  an  answer 
must  positively  be  obtained. 

"Aunt  Norreys,"  said  a  gentle  little  voice 
from  behind  the  long-  amber  satin  curtain. 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  69 

"Well,  my  dear?"  said  Aunt  Norreys, 
placidly. 

"  When  I  went  out  to  ride  with  Giles 
this  morning,  Aunt  Norreys,  we  came 
home  by  a  new  way ;  I  suppose  because 
it  began  to  rain,  and  Giles  wanted  to 
hurry.  It  was  quite  new,  I  never  went  it 
before.  We  came  along  the  St.  Ed- 
mund's road  at  first;  but  that  was  not  the 
new  part,  because  I  knew  it  as  well  as 
can  be.  But  then  we  turned  into  the 
high  pastures,  and  came  behind  the 
church." 

"Was  that  all,  my  dear?"  said  Aunt 
Norreys,  for  Miss  Nancy  had  stayed  to 
consider  it. 

"  It  was  nearly  all  the  ride,  because  we 
soon  came  home  after  that.  But  it  was  not 
all  I  was  thinking.  I  saw  a  place  I  have 
not  seen  before.  I  think  it  does  not  show 
from  the  village  because  of  a  good  many 


7o  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

trees.  It  was  such  a  beautiful,  beautiful 
place ;  a  house  all  gray,  not  red,  like 
ours.  The  trees  of  the  garden  were  round 
it,  I  think,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  wistfully. 
"  I  think  it  was  prettier  than  our  house. 
I  should  be  rather  glad  if  we  had  a  roof 
that  went  up  and  down,  and  if  our  chim- 
neys curled  like  those ;  and  I  wish,  I 
do  wish  that  we  had  a  big  pear-tree  with 
boughs  all  flowers,  and  flowers,  and 
flowers,  over  the  end  where  the  sun  is. 
Don't  you,  Aunt  Norreys?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Aunt  Norreys ; 
"  quite  out  of  place,  my  dear." 

"  I  rather  do,"  said  Miss  Nancy. 
"Giles  called  it  a  Portingale.  I  said  to 
him,  'What  is  this?'  but  Giles  only  said, 
'  This  here  is  an  'ouse.'  ' 

"  Arminel,"  said  Aunt  Norreys,  "  I  am 
astonished  at  you." 

"He    said    so,"    urged    Miss    Nancy,    a 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART.  71 

little  discouraged ;  "  but  I  believe  he 
meant,  'This  is  a  house.'  He  said  that 
it  was  only  an  old  place  where  nobody 
lived.  I  said,  whose  was  it,  but  he  didn't 
know;  and  I  said,  why  didn't  somebody 
live  there,  but  he  didn't  know  that  either. 
He  said  it  was  always  like  that,  and  he 
reckoned  —  I  mean,  he  tJwugJit — it  had 
always  had  been.  And  I  said  that  I 
hadn't  seen  that  place  before,  and  what 
was  its  name?  He  said  it  was  the 
Thankful  Heart.  I  think  it  is  such  a 
very  curious  name  for  a  house.  I  asked 
him  what  it  meant,  but  he  said  he  didn't 
know.  Isn't  it  a  curious  name,  Aunt 
Norreys?  Don't  you  think  so  too?" 

Aunt  Norreys  nodded  her  head  gently, 
but  gave  Miss  Nancy  no  open  encourage- 
ment to  pursue  her  inquiries. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  about  it.  I  never  saw 
a  place  like  it  before.  I  know  names 


72  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

like  the  rectory,  and  Crabtree  farm,  and 
those  things,  but  I  don't  know  a  name 
like  the  Thankful  Heart.  I  asked  Giles, 
but  it  was  no  use.  So  then  we  came 
home,  because  of  the  rain." 

Aunt  Norreys  nodded  more  decidedly. 

"  But  I  know  the  way  to  it,  if  some- 
times I  might  go,  for  I  looked  as  much 
as  I  could.  You  go  through  the  church- 
yard, past  the  window  where  the  white 
roses  are,  and  there  is  a  gate  in  the  wall, 
and  some  steps  down  from  the  yard ; 
and  they  come  into  a  lane,  and  you  go 
up  it  until  there  is  no  more  lane,  but  only 
gates.  And  after  that,  there  is  a  way 
through  a  field,  where  there  are  more 
buttercups  than  anywhere  else.  And 
then,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  leaning  forward, 
with  her  dark  eyes  shining  in  her  pale 
little  face,  —  "and  then  you  come  to  the 
Thankful  Heart." 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  73 

Aunt  Norreys  snored  aloud. 

So  Miss  Nancy  stole  out,  and  went  up- 
stairs to  the  brown  parlor.  Trimmer  was 
not  there,  and  she  knelt  down  at  the 
window-seat,  and  talked  it  over  with  the 
rooks  in  the  elm-tree  tops,  having  a  sober 
friendship  with  them  of  life-long  standing. 
They  had  the  advantage  of  living  so  near 
the  window-seat  that  they  were  very  con- 
venient as  confidants,  for  Miss  Nancy, 
however  reserved,  was  occasionally  com- 
pelled, like  many  other  lonely  children, 
to  find  some  one  or  some  thing  to  confide 
in. 

But  these  steady  old  acquaintances, 
wisely  and  solemnly  as  they  might  caw 
to  her,  afforded  no  practical  assistance  in 
the  present  case,  and  Miss  Nancy  watched 
the  rain  and  the  rooks  together,  until 
Trimmer  came  in. 

"  Trimmer,"  began  Miss  Nancy  at  tea 


74  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

time,  "  if  you  please,  what  does  the 
Thankful  Heart  mean?" 

"  What  thankful  heart?  "  said  Trimmer. 

"  I  mean  the  house,  near  the  church," 
said  Miss  Nancy. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure.  Well,  Miss  Nancy,  I 
suppose  it  is  an  old  house,  but  I  cannot 
say  I  have  ever  seen  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is  a  house,"  said  Miss 
Nancy ;  "but  what  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  Mean?  "  echoed  Trimmer.  "  It  means 
a  house,  Miss  Nancy." 

"  But  the  thing  is,  why  should  it  have 
that  name?  " 

Trimmer  preserved  a  discreet  silence. 

"Trimmer,  do  you  know  why?"  ven- 
tured Miss  Nancy. 

"  No,  Miss  Nancy,  I  do  not." 

"  But  it  is  such  a  curious,  curious  name. 
It  makes  me  wonder  so  much.  Don't  you 
think  it  might  mean  something?" 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  75 

"  No,  Miss  Nancy,  I  cannot  say  that  I 
do." 

"But  supposing  that  it  did?"  persisted 
Miss  Nancy,  resting  her  elbows  on  the 
table,  and  her  chin  on  her  hands. 

"  And  supposing  that  it  didn't,"  said 
Trimmer,  tartly.  "  Miss  Nancy,  take  your 
elbows  off  the  table.  That  is  what  I  am 
supposing." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  obediently. 
"  Trimmer,  now  I  have  taken  my  elbows 
off  the  table,  could  you  tell  me?  " 

"Tell  you  what,  Miss  Nancy?"  said 
Trimmer,  with  some  exasperation. 

"About  the  Thankful  Heart,  Trimmer." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  more  than  I  have 
done,  Miss  Nancy.  It  is  an  old  house, 
and  no  more,  and  no  less." 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  persisted  Miss 
Nancy.  "I  mean,  what  is  it?" 

"  And    haven't    I   just    told    you,    Miss 


76  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

Nancy?"  demanded  Trimmer,  with  a  kind 
of  exhausted  patience. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Nancy ;  "  but  you 
don't  understand,  Trimmer." 

However,  this  sounded  so  exceedingly 
rude  to  an  elder,  that  Miss  Nancy  blushed, 
and  hastened  to  add,  before  Trimmer 
could  reprove  her,  "  I  mean,  I  don't 
understand." 

"  No,  Miss  Nancy,"  said  Trimmer, 
severely.  "  No,  you  do  not." 

"  But  I  want  to  understand,"  said  Miss 
Nancy.  "Trimmer,  don't  you  think  you 
could  make  me?" 

"  You  do  not  need  to  understand  any- 
thing but  your  duties.  To  obey  your 
elders,  and  tell  the  truth,  and  do  your 
lessons,  and  mind  your  behavior,  what 
more  can  you  want,  Miss  Nancy?" 

"  I  have  tried  to  obey  my  elders  all  to- 
day, Trimmer,  and  I  don't  remember  tell- 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART. 


77 


ing  anything  but  the  truth,  and  I  have 
done  my  lessons,  and  minded  my  be- 
havior a  good  deal,  but  still  I  want  to 
understand  and  I  don't." 

"  Then  do  all  those  same  things 
more  until  you  do,"  concluded  Trimmer. 
Which  was,  though  perhaps  evasive  on 
Trimmer's  part,  a  saying  deeper  than  she 
knew. 

"  Yes.  Only  still  I  want  to  know," 
said  Miss  Nancy,  steadfastly.  "  But  never 
mind,  Trimmer,  because  of  course  it  does 
not  matter." 

So  Miss  Nancy  was  led  to  bring  the 
subject  forward  for  the  consideration  of 
Giles,  a  person  of  an  age  unknown  — 
though,  as  Miss  Nancy  believed,  rather 
great  —  and  of  large  attributes,  in  right  of 
his  self-arrogation. 

"  Giles,"  said  Miss  Nancy  accordingly, 
upon  the  first  opportunity,  looking  up 


78  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

from  the  modest  level  of  the  Shetland 
pony  at  the  cross  old  face  on  the  height 
of  the  squire's  tremendous  red  horse, — 
"  Giles,  what  kind  of  thoughts  do  you 
have  about  the  Thankful  Heart?" 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Giles,  with  an  eye  of  un- 
told wisdom,  having  never  given  much 
thought  to  the  subject,  but  having  a  mind 
above  admitting  it.  "  Do  you  mean  my 
thankful  heart,  or  somebody  else's?" 

"  I  mean  the  one  the  house  means," 
said  Miss  Nancy,  somewhat  obscurely, — 
"  the  old  house  near  the  church." 

"  Oh,  ay ;  that  same  old  place.  And 
what  about  it,  Miss  Nancy?  " 

"  I  want  to  know  what  about  it,  Giles." 

"  Ay,  well,  Miss  Nancy,  I  told  you  it 
had  never  been  aught  in  my  time  but  a 
gashly  old  place." 

"  Oh,  no,  Giles,"  said  Miss  Nancy  seri- 
ously, dimly  perceiving  the  term,  what- 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


79 


ever  it  might  mean,  to  be  a  lowering  one, 
"  not  at  all  gashly,  /  think.  And  you 
said  it  was  an  old  place  before.  But  I 
want  to  understand  what  a  thankful  heart 
is,  exactly." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  it  is  being  thankfully 
minded,"  said  Giles  grudgingly,  not  being 
himself  of  that  disposition. 

"  And  what  ought  one  to  be  thankful 
for?  " 

"  For  one's  vittles,  Miss  Nancy." 

"All  of  them?"  inquired  Miss  Nancy, 
with  a  lingering  hope  that  there  might  be 
a  dispensation  in  favor  of  rice  pudding, 
when  partaken  of  for  the  fourth  time  in 
one  week. 

"  Ay,  I  reckon  so.  And  the  clothes  to 
one's  back." 

"  Even  if  they  are  clothes  you  do  not 
much  like,  Giles?"  said  Miss  Nancy,  faint- 
heartedly, with  the  new  Leghorn  hat  stalk- 


8o  MASTER    BARTLEMY ,     OR, 

ing  gloomily  before  her  mind's  eye,  and 
the  bottle-green  coat  that  pinched  round 
the  neck. 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure,  for  all  one's  clothes." 

"  And  anything  else,  Giles?  " 

"  For  things  mostly,  Miss  Nancy,"  said 
Giles,  though  it  went  to  his  heart  to  con- 
fess it. 

"  Then  a  thankful  heart  means,  that  you 
are  to  be  thankful  for  everything  you 
have,  even  for  the  things  you  do  not 
like?" 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  say  that,"  said 
Giles,  inclined  to  back  out  at  this  view 
of  the  matter ;  "  because  I  reckon  a  man 
couldn't  be  thankful  for  things  as  he 
wasn't  thankful  for." 

"  But  it  is  generally  rather  rude  to  pick 
out  things,  you  know.  I  think  it  does 
not  seem  nice  only  to  be  thankful  for  the 
things  you  like  to  be  thankful  for,"  said 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  8 1 

Miss  Nancy,  deeply.  "  Don't  you  think 
so?" 

But  Giles  did  not  think  it  by  any 
means,  and  declined  to  allow  that  he  did. 

"  It  isn't  having  a  thankful  heart,  after 
all,  if  you  leave  some  of  the  things  out," 
argued  Miss  Nancy. 

On  which  Giles  took  refuge  in  a  sudden 
access  of  majesty,  and  the  discussion  fell 
to  the  ground. 

"  I  cannot  quite  say  it,"  was  Miss 
Nancy's  conclusion,  "  but  I  think  that  it 
is  really  and  truly  in  the  thankful  heart. 
If  you  have  that,  I  believe  you  do  feel 
thankful,  always  for  everything." 


82  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 


VI. 

""TRIMMER,"  remarked  Miss  Nancy, 
with  studied  affability,  "  I  do  know 
such  a  nice  walk ;  you  cannot  think  what 
a  good  one  it  is." 

°'£  Indeed,  Miss  Nancy,"  responded 
Trimmer,  with  but  moderate  warmth. 

"You  would  like  it  very  much,  I  feel 
sure  that  you  would,"  pursued  Miss 
Nancy.  "  Trimmer,  when  you  want  to 
go  a  new  walk,  will  you  tell  me?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Nancy,  I  will. 

This  was  not  encouraging ;  Miss  Nancy 
was  reduced  to  plain  speaking.  "  I 
should  like  to  go  this  walk  very  much. 
Might  we  go  to-day?  " 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  83 

If  poor  Trimmer  could  have  found  any 
reasonable  grounds  for  refusal,  she  would 
gladly  have  availed  herself  of  them,  for, 
like  Aunt  Norreys,  she  hated  country 
walks,  but  Miss  Nancy  had  to  be  taken 
somewhere. 

"I  begin  to  grow  a  little  tired  of  the 
road  to  St.  Edmunds'/'  said  Miss  Nancy. 
"  I  know  it  rather  well,  you  see.  And 
the  road  through  the  village,  too." 

"  Miss  Nancy,"  said  Trimmer,  deter- 
minedly, "  my  face  is  fixed  against  fields." 

"  The  new  walk  is  a  lane  !  "  cried  Miss 
Nancy,  triumphantly.  "  It  is  not  fields, 
nor  ditches,  nor  horses,  nor  cows.  Trim- 
mer, do  you  think  we  could  go  it?  " 

"  I  shall  see  when  I  get  there,"  replied 
Trimmer,  guardedly.  "  Miss  Nancy,  do 
not  think  that  frock  is  clean  enough  to 
go  out  in,  for  it  is  not.  And  that  makes 
three  clean  print  frocks  this  week." 


84  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

"  I  don't  want  to  put  another  on,  Trim- 
mer," said  Miss  Nancy,  in  subdued  ac- 
cents ;  but,  to  propitiate  the  seat  of 
government,  made  no  further  protest, 
and  stood  with  exemplary  patience  to  be 
dressed  in  that  plain  but  spotless  gar- 
ment considered  by  Trimmer  the  only 
proper  one  for  a  young  lady  taking  her 
walks  abroad  in  the  season  of  summer. 
Cleanliness  came  before  godliness  in 
Trimmer's  requirements.  Miss  Nancy 
might  accidentally  be  naughty  now  and 
then,  but  under  no  circumstances  might 
she  be  dirty. 

"  This  walk  will  begin  like  the  village," 
announced  Miss  Nancy,  when  the  expedi- 
tion had  set  out.  "  You  will  think  it  is 
going  to  be  through  the  village  like  the 
old  one,  but  it  is  not.  Presently  you  will 
see  it." 

Presently  came  just  on  the  outskirts  of 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART.  85 

the  village,  when  Miss  Nancy  opened  the 
churchyard  gate. 

"  Miss  Nancy,  where  are  you  going 
now?  "  demanded  Trimmer. 

"  It  is  a  proper  walk,  quite  proper," 
said  Miss  Nancy,  stoutly,  leading  the  way 
in  much  haste,  lest  Trimmer  should 
change  her  mind,  past  the  sunny  window 
where  the  white  roses  peeped  and  nodded 
to  Master  Bartlemy,  to  a  wicket  in  the 
churchyard  wall,  and  down  a  flight  of 
worn  steps  into  a  little  lane,  very  narrow, 
and  very  deep. 

"  Trimmer,  this  is  it,"  announced  Miss 
Nancy. 

Trimmer  did  not  respond  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  It  looks  very  dirty,  Miss  Nancy,"  she 
said. 

"  No,  it  is  only  a  very  little  dirty,  Trim- 
mer, and  I  do  not  mind  it,  I  do  not,  in- 


86  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

deed.  And  you  do  not  know,  Trimmer, 
for  you  cannot  possibly  know,  how  beau- 
tiful it  is  down  there." 

Trimmer  turned  down  the  new  lane 
with  the  eye  of  one  who  has  doubts. 
The  churchyard  wall  was  on  one  side, 
and  on  the  other  an  overgrown  hedge,  so 
that  the  churchyard  trees  and  the  haw- 
thorn bushes  met  overhead.  This  made 
the  lane  very  attractive  to  a  person  of 
Miss  Nancy's  age ;  but  a  person  of  Trim- 
mer's could  not  be  blind  to  the  mud  in 
the  deep  ruts,  and  Trimmer  picked  her 
way  with  a  very  dissatisfied  face. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful?"  breathed  Miss 
Nancy.  "  But  soon  it  will  be  more  !  " 

"  I  hope  so,  Miss  Nancy,"  said  Trim- 
mer plainly,  "  for  I  was  just  beginning  to 
think  that  we  would  turn  back." 

"  Oh,  Trimmer  !  When  it  is  just  here 
—  at  least,  only  such  a  little  further !  " 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  87 

"  Well,  Miss  Nancy,  I  really  do  not  see 
what  you  have  come  to  look  at,"  said 
Trimmer,  but  being  by  no  means  an 
unkind  woman,  though  a  strict  one,  she 
struggled  on  to  Miss  Nancy's  goal.  The 
lane  ended  in  old  iron  gates,  hung  on 
stone  pillars  with  great  stone  balls  on 
their  tops. 

"  And,  oh,  Trimmer,  it  is  here  !  "  said 
Miss  Nancy. 

"  There  is  not  much  to  see  here,  Miss 
Nancy,"  replied  Trimmer;  "I  suppose 
it  is  only  that  old  place  you  talked 
about." 

Miss  Nancy  looked  at  her  beseechingly. 
"And  don't  you  like  it?  But,  Trim- 
mer, mayn't  I  stay  a  few  minutes,  and 
look?" 

"Well,  you  may  stay  while  I  walk  to 
the  corner  and  back,"  said  Trimmer. 

Miss    Nancy    thanked     her    gratefully; 


88  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

and  Trimmer  turned  away,  with  the  some- 
what old  reflection  that  there  was  no 
accounting  for  the  fancies  of  children. 
What  Miss  Nancy  could  find  to  look  at, 
she  failed  to  see ;  and  indeed  exactly 
where  the  attraction  did  lie  does  not 
appear.  Could  we  precisely  define  all 
those  odd  fascinations  of  our  childhood, 
to  which  we  still  look  back  pleasantly,  — 
if  sometimes  a  little  sadly?  for  alas,  alas, 
there  are  no  such  dreams  now-a-days  ! 

Miss  Nancy  stood  oblivious  to  all  else, 
clasping  the  bars  of  the  gates,  with  her 
face  pressed  to  them,  gazing  in,  with  her 
very  heart  in  her  eyes,  upon  a  meadow 
so  yellow  with  buttercups  that  it  was  like 
a  field  of  gold,  upon  a  path  leading 
through  it  to  a  low  stone  wall  and  an- 
other gateway,  of  which  the  gates  were 
open,  as  if  they  had  not  been  closed  for  a 
long,  long  time.  Miss  Nancy  could  see 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  89 

within.  She  saw  a  wide  old  courtyard 
paved  with  stone,  filled  with  yellow  sun- 
light, where  the  pigeons  came  down,  and 
fluttered  and  strutted ;  she  saw  mellow 
walls,  latticed  windows,  twisted  chimneys, 
peaked  roofs,  overhanging  gables,  and 
apple  and  pear  trees  all  pink  and  white 
with  bloom.  Behind,  the  rolling  uplands 
where  the  sheep  pastured,  and  the  hang- 
ing birchwood  falling  down  to  the  level 
meadows,  and  before,  the  field  of  the 
cloth  of  gold,  where  the  buttercups  grew, 
and  in  the  midst,  the  house  of  the 
Thankful  Heart. 

"  And  don't  you  ever  need  to  .go  in- 
side the  gates,  Trimmer?"  asked  Miss 
Nancy,  when  she  was  finally  torn  from 
the  spot. 

"  No,  Miss  Nancy,  certainly  not.  How 
should  I?" 

Miss  Nancy   did    not    know,    and   pon- 


9° 


MASTER    BARTLEMY. 


dered  the  matter  with  unspeakable  long- 
ing all  the  way  home.  To  visit  the 
Thankful  Heart  had  now  become  the 
chief  aim  of  her  existence  ;  but  she  must 
needs  bide  her  time  in  patience,  for  im- 
patience had  never  in  her  life  gained  her 
anything. 

But  Patience  is  a  sure  horse,  however 
slow,  and,  jogging  steadily  forward,  carried 
Miss  Nancy  at  last  almost  within  reach  of 
her  desire.  There  came  an  evening  when 
over  dessert  the  squire  said,  "  I  shall  be 
late  for  lunch  to-morrow.  Todd  is  com- 
ing from  St.  Edmunds'  to  go  over  the 
upland  pastures  with  me.  He  is  to  meet 
me  at  eleven  o'clock  at  the  Thankful 
Heart." 

He  said  it;  and  Miss  Nancy  heard  it, 
and  though  pale  with  sudden  rapture,  still 
survived. 

But  good  steed  as  Patience  may  be,  she 


:  ARRAYED     IN    A    SINGULAR    COLLECTION    OF    GARMENTS. 

—  Page  93. 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART. 


93 


cannot  avert  the  inevitable,  and  as  poor 
Miss  Nancy  perceived  from  her  window, 
the  next  morning  was  a  wet  one,  and  not 
a  little  wet,  but  sullenly  pouring.  She 
watched  the  weather  with  a  failing  heart 
all  breakfast  time,  and  well  aware  that  in 
face  of  it  any  request  preferred  to  Aunt 
Norreys  could  only  meet  with  a  most 
reasonable  refusal,  ended  by  trusting  to 
her  old  expedient  of  escaping  from  Trim- 
mer to  join  the  squire  at  the  last  moment. 
But  Miss  Nancy  was  unskilful  in  strategy, 
and  the  enemy  had  overwhelming  advan- 
tages, and  presently  surprised  her  in  the 
act  of  flight,  arrayed  in  a  singular  collec- 
tion of  such  garments  as  lay  at  her  com- 
mand ;  an  old  hat  of  the  squire's  which 
could  come  to  no  further  harm,  her  own 
red  cloak,  her  strongest  boots,  and  by 
way  of  great  precautions,  a  cast-off  pair 
of  Trimmer's  goloshes. 


94  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

"  Miss  Nancy  !  "  exclaimed  the  astound- 
ed Trimmer. 

"  I  am  just  going  out  with  daddy, 
Trimmer,"  faltered  the  guilty  young 
lady. 

"  Oh,  are  you,  Miss  Nancy?  "  rejoined 
Trimmer  grimly.  "  Now  you  will  do 
nothing  of  the  sort." 

"  Trimmer,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  desper- 
ately, "  I  must  go." 

"  Miss  Nancy,  take  those  things  off 
immediately." 

"  Trimmer,  I  will  go  !  " 

"  Miss  Arminel ! "  said  Trimmer  in  a 
fearful  voice,  for  Miss  Nancy's  rebellious 
moments  were  so  few  and  fleeting  as  to 
be  an  astonishment  when  they  did  come. 

"I  mean,  Trimmer,  mayn't  I  go?  Oh, 
Trimmer,  if  I  sit  under  the  apron  of  the 

gig?" 

"Miss  Nancy,  you  know  very  well  that 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


95 


you  may  not.  Your  Aunt  Norreys  would 
not  listen  to  it  for  a  moment,  and  as 
for  your  papa,  well,  I  hear  him  driving 
away  now." 

Which  indeed  he  did  ;  and  Miss  Nancy 
was  left  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  in  such 
an  agony  of  disappointment  as  we  have 
all  felt  at  her  age,  but  happily  not  often 
afterwards ;  for  although  one's  disappoint- 
ments may  be  as  keen,  they  lose  at  least 
the  utter  helplessness  of  those  days. 

"  Miss  Nancy,  will  you  do  as  you  are 
bidden?" 

Trimmer's  voice  recalled  her  to  herself, 
and  to  the  fact  that  she  really  was  left  at 
home,  and  the  day  must  be  faced. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  should  soon  be  naughty, 
I  feel  as  if  I  —  couldn't  help  —  it !  "  Miss 
Nancy's  voice  died  away  wailfully. 

"  Miss  Nancy,  you  know  you  never 
could  have  gone  in  this  rain,  so  do  not 


96  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

make  a  piece  of  work  about  it.  Go  and 
take  those  things  off." 

"  I  did  so  want  to  go,  I  did  so  want  to 
go,"  stammered  Miss  Nancy  incoherently, 
obeying  more  by  instinct  than  anything 
else,  and  shuffling  miserably  after  Trim- 
mer, with  the  goloshes  treading  on  each 
other's  toes,  and  the  squire's  hat  halfway 
down  her  face.  "  I  wanted  more  than 
anything  in  the  world.  I  thought  I  could 
go  with  daddy,  if  I  was  very  good.  Oh, 
Trimmer,  and  he  was  going  to  the  Thank- 
ful Heart !  And  you  have  made  him  go 
without  me.  Oh,  Trimmer,  Trimmer, 
Trimmer !  " 

Trimmer  was  perforce  deaf  to  this 
heartrending  appeal ;  but  she  was  a  feel- 
ing person  in  her  own  way. 

It  is  not  indeed  quite  to  be  ascertained 
whether  Trimmer  had  not  herself  under- 
taken the  task,  when  one  day  she  an- 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


97 


nounced,  "  Miss  Nancy,  Mrs.  Plummett's 
rheumatism  being  so  bad  that  she  cannot 
go  out,  I  have  to  go  for  her  to-morrow, 
to  take  some  things  to  a  sick  woman. 
If  you  are  good  you  may  go  with  me. 
It  is  the  shepherd's  wife,  who  lives  in  the 
farmyard  of  the  Thankful  Heart." 

But  there  certainly  seem  to  be  times 
when  fate  has  nothing  for  us  but  buffets ; 
which  are  doubtless  salutary,  but,  like 
other  salutary  things,  not  to  be  taken 
without  a  gulp. 

When  Trimmer  came  to  Miss  Nancy's 
bedroom  in  the  morning,  she  found  her 
young  lady  standing  on  a  chair  before  the 
looking-glass,  the  better  to  obtain  a  com- 
manding view  down  her  own  throat.  "  I 
do  not  see  it  sore  inside,  but  it  feels  as  if  it 
soon  might  be,"  Miss  Nancy  said,  turning 
round  a  small,  woe-begone  face  with  wan 
cheeks  and  great,  anxious  eyes,  and  speak- 


98  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

ing  in  that  croaking  voice  which  always 
heralded  a  sore  throat  of  that  form  to 
which  she  was  much  addicted,  and  which 
was  the  more  to  be  dreaded  because  it 
was  inherited  from  her  mother. 

"  And  Miss  Nancy  the  picture  of 
her  this  minute  !  "  said  Trimmer  almost 
aloud.  "  And  she  was  only  ill  three  days, 
and  it  was  her  throat." 

"  Get  back  into  bed  at  once,  Miss 
Nancy,"  adjured  Trimmer,  "  or  I  cannot 
tell  how  much  sorer  it  may  be.  Now,  you 
shall  have  your  breakfast  in  bed,  and  we 
shall  see  how  you  feel  after  that." 

"  Do  you  think  it  may  be  gone  by  the 
time  I  have  had  my  breakfast,  Trimmer?  " 

"  Well,  we  shall  see,"  replied  Trimmer, 
tucking  Miss  Nancy  up  in  bed.  "  You 
must  lie  still  now,  and  perhaps  if  you  eat 
your  breakfast,  your  throat  may  be  better 
after  it." 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART. 


99 


But  alas,  it  was  no  better,  even  after 
Miss  Nancy's  very  gallant  attempt  at  her 
bread  and  milk,  and  the  tears  would 
trickle  down  her  cheeks  as  she  began  to 
perceive  that  she  must  make  up  her  mind 
to  that  only  too  familiar  calamity  which 
she  dolorously  called,  "  having  a  throat." 

"  I  haven't  brought  it  on  myself,  Trim- 
mer, as  you  said  I  did  before,"  she 
croaked  piteously.  "  I  haven't  been  in  the 
fields  with  daddy  all  this  week.  And  oh, 
Trimmer,  Trimmer,  I  cannot  go  to  the 
Thankful  Heart  again  !  " 

Trimmer  could  find  no  immediate  con- 
solation for  poor  little  Miss  Nancy  under 
this  second  grievous  blow.  It  was  but 
cold  comfort  when  she  said,  "Well,  Miss 
Nancy,  if  you  cannot  go,  I  will  not,  and 
someone  else  shall  take  the  things,"  be- 
cause Miss  Nancy  was  fully  aware  that 
it  was  no  disappointment  at  all  to  her. 


loo  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

11  And  you  must  not  cry  and  fret,"  pur- 
sued Trimmer,  "  because  you  will  only 
make  yourself  feverish.  The  better  you 
behave  now,  the  happier  you  will  feel 
after  it." 

But  it  cost  Miss  Nancy  a  sharp  struggle 
before  she  could  say  that  she  did  not 
mind  it  now,  at  least,  not  so  mucJi.  But 
she  did  achieve  it  in  the  end,  having  her 
little  inheritance  of  that  passive  endurance 
that  is  often  one  of  the  dignified  graces  of 
an  old  house  drawing  near  to  its  end. 
The  squire  came  to  see  her,  and  Aunt 
Norreys  sat  with  her  for  an  hour,  and  so 
the  morning  passed,  and  Trimmer  brought 
her  dinner,  which  took  the  cheerful  form 
of  gruel ;  and,  unfortunately,  Miss  Nancy 
hated  gruel. 

"Trimmer,  need  I?"  she  whispered, 
having  by  this  time  passed  beyond  the 
croaking  stage. 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  ioi 

"  Yes,  Miss  Nancy,"  said  Trimmer, 
hardening  herself,  "  you  certainly  need, 
so  take  it  like  a  good  girl." 

Miss  Nancy  looked  at  the  gruel  and 
fought  with  herself;  but  even  in  her 
small  degree,  she  had  not  pondered  the 
thankful  heart  in  vain.  She  bent  her 
head,  and  put  her  hands  together. 

"  For  what  we  are  about  to  receive," 
she  whispered  courageously,  wrestling 
with  an  enormous  sob,  "  may  the  Lord 
make  us  truly  thankful."  And,  seasoning 
her  repast  with  some  furtive  and  very 
salt  tears,  Miss  Nancy  attacked  the  gruel. 

"  And  now  you  shall  do  nothing  all 
afternoon  but  amuse  yourself,"  said  Trim- 
mer; which  sprightly  promise  she  con- 
sidered a  very  felicitous  way  of  putting 
an  enforced  sojourn  in  bed,  and  so  pro- 
ceeded to  invest  Miss  Nancy  with  a 
further  dressing-gown,  and  to  prop  her 


102  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

up  in  bed,  and  bring  her  an  armful  of 
books.  But  while  acknowledging  Trim- 
mer's kindness,  Miss  Nancy  could  scarcely 
fail  to  regard  it  as  only  a  poor  substitute 
for  the  Thankful  Heart,  and  she  looked  at 
the  books  sadly. 

For  Miss  Nancy's  library  was  a  small 
one,  and  the  books  were  nearly  all  of  a 
warning  cast.  The  stories  in  the  little  red 
volumes  of  the  "  Children's  Friend  "  were 
chiefly  fearful  narratives  of  the  sudden 
deaths  of  children  who  flew  into  passions, 
or  used  bad  language,  or  broke  the  Sabbath, 
and  were  apt  to  have  a  depressing  effect 
on  the  mind,  not  to  speak  of  the  peculiar 
atmosphere  of  gloom  that  hung  round  the 
boy  who  asked  to  be  put  in  his  little 
coffin.  And  Miss  Nancy  never  could 
see  her  way  to  holding  such  religious 
conversations  with  any  of  her  relatives 
and  friends  as  the  standard  of  the  "  Chil- 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


103 


dren's  Friend  "  seemed  to  demand  —  con- 
versations such  as  the  "  Children  "  main- 
tained with  ease  and  fluency,  and  generally 
with  the  happiest  results  as  to  immediate 
conversion  on  the  side  of  the  elders. 

In  fact,  Miss  Nancy  had  never  been 
able  to  find  anything  to  do  in  the  way 
of  her  duty,  except  the  old  round  of 
obeying  Aunt  Norreys,  and  telling  the 
truth,  and  minding  her  manners,  and  try- 
ing to  be  as  tidy  as  Trimmer  required, 
and  learning  her  lessons. 

Then  there  was  "  Kate,  or  the  Punish- 
ment of  Pride,"  and  a  very  delightful 
book  too,  only  unhappily  Miss  Nancy 
knew  it  almost  by  heart;  and  the  same 
objection  applied  to  Miss  Hofland's  tales. 
There  was  nothing  left  but  the  dear  old 
"  Looking-Glass  for  the  Mind,"  and  Miss 
Nancy  turned  over  the  leaves  with 
languid  fingers,  and  read  of  little  Adol- 


104  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

phus  and  Annabella's  journey  to  market, 
and  Alfred  and  Dorinda,  and  Anthony 
and  Augustus  or  Rational  Education 
preferable  to  Riches ;  and  looked  at  John 
Berrick's  quaint  cuts  of  these  stilted 
young  persons  in  tall  hats,  and  square 
coats,  and  long  gowns. 

But  Miss  Nancy's  head  ached,  and  her 
eyes  ached  also,  and  when  Trimmer  came 
again,  the  books  were  laid  aside,  and 
Miss  Nancy  was  leaning  back  on  her 
pillow,  and,  as  she  said,  thinking  a  little 
about  the  Thankful  Heart.  For,  like  the 
stories  in  the  dear,  impossible,  old 
"  Looking-Glass,"  it,  too,  had  pointed  a 
moral,  and  read  Miss  Nancy  a  lesson 
that  day.  And  little  Miss  Nancy,  having 
concluded  that  this  was  one  of  those 
lessons  spoken  of  by  the  rector,  which 
we  must  learn  alone,  had  addressed  her- 
self to  the  uphill  task  of  learning  it,  with 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  105 

the  silent  patience  that  came  of  her  gentle 
blood. 

"  And  now,  if  you  behave  properly," 
said  Trimmer,  "  I  will  tell  you  about  what 
your  mamma  used  to  do  at  Willmeadow, 
until  you  fall  asleep." 

"  I  am  behaving  properly,"  gasped 
Miss  Nancy  in  faint  accents,  with  her 
hands  pressed  tightly  over  her  lips,  to 
keep  the  sobs  back  by  main  force.  "  I 
have  tried  to  behave  above  everything 
you  can  think  of,  and  I  am  not  fretting,  I 
am  not,  I  am  not!" 

"  No,  Miss  Nancy,  I  see  that  you  are 
not;"  said  Trimmer  handsomely,  "and 
I  will  say  that  you  have  behaved  like  a 
young  lady  to-day." 

Which  high  testimony  filled  up  Miss 
Nancy's  cup  to  the  brim,  it  overflowed  in 
scalding  tears  of  various  feelings. 

"  I  can  go  on  behaving,"  she  said,  with 


106  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

the  counterpane  over  her  head,  and  a  wet 
pad  of  handkerchief  in  each  eye,  "  I  can 
go  on  behaving  till  I  fall  asleep.  But  I 
cannot,  I  cannot  be  quite  thankful  enough 
yet." 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  107 


VII. 

\  7IRTUE  was  its  own  reward  in  the  case 
of  Miss  Nancy's  commendable  behav- 
ior under  the  cruel  disappointments  she 
had  sustained ;  or  rather,  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  it  was  its  own  reward,  for  she  had 
nothing  else.  At  least,  she  had  nothing 
immediately,  and  one  has  to  live  in  the 
immediate. 

So  she  recovered,  and  the  world  went 
on  as  if  she  had  not  endured  anything,  as 
indeed  it  is  very  apt  to  do.  For  Miss 
Nancy  had  suffered.  To  have  a  sore 
throat  was  painful,  but  what  was  it  to  miss- 
ing the  Thankful  Heart  twice  over?  And 


I08  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

in  the  meantime,  the  days  were  passing 
by,  until  Miss  Nancy  had  almost  fallen 
into  a  resigned  way  of  believing  that  for 
some  reason  it  was  impossible  for  her 
ever  to  get  thither. 

But  reparation  has  a  fashion  of  coming 
to  us  from  the  most  unexpected  quarters. 
Nothing  could  have  been  further  from 
Miss  Nancy's  thoughts  on  that  midsum- 
mer afternoon,  yet  at  the  identical  happy 
moment  when,  kneeling  on  the  floor,  she 
had  engulfed  herself  in  the  lower  half  of 
the  cupboard,  to  put  away  her  lesson- 
books, —  at  that  moment  came  Bailey  to 
the  door  with  the  rector's  compliments, 
and  Aunt  Norreys  having  accorded  her 
permission,  would  Miss  Nancy  do  him  the 
honor  to  take  a  walk  with  him? 

"  Oh,  Bailey ! "  cried  Miss  Nancy, 
emerging  breathlessly,  feet  first,  after  a 
pause  of  stunned  astonishment  passed  in- 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


109 


side  the  cupboard,  and  knocking  her  head 
a  most  resounding  bump  against  the  shelf. 
"  Oh,  Bailey,  she  would,  she  would  !  Go 
and  tell  the  rector;  and  run  before  he 
goes  away,  and  say  that  she  would  !  " 

"  There,  Trimmer  !  "  said  Miss  Nancy, 
in  the  height  of  her  gratification. 

"Very  well,  Miss  Nancy,  you  will  have 
to  be  made  tidy,"  responded  Trimmer. 

Thus  rudely  brought  down,  Miss  Nancy 
had  leisure  to  remember  her  wounds,  and, 
rather  late,  felt  the  back  of  her  head.  But 
Trimmer  raked  her  from  head  to  foot  with 
a  searching  eye,  as  a  preliminary  meas- 
ure, and  as  a  following  one,  swept  her 
away  to  her  bedroom,  whence  she  pres- 
ently issued  with  a  clean  sun-bonnet,  and 
the  raw  appearance  of  one  who  has  just 
been  washed  and  brushed  with  some 
severity. 

"  Now  you   may  go,  and  mind  your  be- 


HO  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

havior,"  said  Trimmer,  who  was  a  ter- 
rific dragon  on  the  (now  unfortunately 
out  of  date)  subject  of  manners. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  obediently, 
and  minded  it  extremely  hard  all  the  way 
downstairs,  and  set  ofif  beside  the  rector 
with  pride  only  tempered  by  a  deep  sense 
of  the  manners  befitting  the  occasion. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  rector,  "  as  I  was 
about  to  take  my  walk,  it  occurred  to  me 
that  I  should  like  company." 

"I  like  being  company  very  much," 
said  Miss  Nancy,  seriously.  "  Generally  I 
am  daddy's,  but  I  cannot  be  it  always. 
And  I  do  not  enjoy  being  Trimmer's  com- 
pany so  much,  because  she  does  not  like 
anywhere  dirty." 

"  I  trust  you  will  enjoy  being  my  com- 
pany," said  the  rector,  with  correspond- 
ing gravity ;  and  they  went  out  of  the 
gates  and  down  the  long  shady  road  to  the 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  m 

village,  side  by  side,  the  rector  rather 
tall  and  Miss  Nancy  rather  short,  but 
still  hand  in  hand,  like  dear  friends.  And 
then  the  rector  opened  the  churchyard 
gate. 

"Are  we  going  through  here?"  said 
Miss  Nancy,  with  a  flush  mounting  in  her 
cheeks.  "  I  know  a  walk  which  goes  this 
way.  It  goes  down  a  lane." 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  rector. 

"  It  is  my  dearest  walk  of  all,"  said 
Miss  Nancy. 

"  This  is  mine  also,"  replied  the  rec- 
tor. 

Something  rose  up  in  Miss  Nancy's 
throat  then,  and  her  heart  beat  thick  and 
fast.  If  she  were  to  be  disappointed  this 
time,  she  must  disgrace  herself,  and  that, 
too,  before  the  rector.  And  they  went 
on  under  the  sunny  window  to  the  wicket 
in  the  churchyard  wall,  and  up  the  for- 


112  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

gotten  little  lane,  to  the  gates  of  the 
Thankful  Heart. 

"Do  we  turn  back  now?"  whispered 
Miss  Nancy,  flutteringly. 

"No,"  replied  the  rector.  "I  gener- 
ally go  in,  unless  you  do  not  like." 

"  I  do  like,  I  do  like.  I  have  wanted 
to  go  so  much,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  almost 
with  a  sob —  "so  extremely  much  !  " 

"  Then  I  am  rejoiced  indeed,"  said  the 
rector,  and  opened  the  heavy,  old  iron 
gates  between  the  pillars  with  the  stone 
balls  upon  them.  They  went  through 
the  buttercup  meadow  to  the  gateway  in 
the  wall,  and  into  the  courtyard,  —  a  broad, 
stone-paved  courtyard  peacefully  enclosed 
in  its  walls,  with  the  mellow  front  of  the 
old  house  on  the  fourth  side ;  at  one  end, 
the  pigeon-cote,  with  the  pigeons  cooing 
and  nestling  in  the  sun,  and  at  the  other 
a  gray  stone  basin  into  which  fell  the 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART.  113 

spring    from   the    uplands.       There    were 


"THERE  WERE  WORDS  CUT  IN  THE  STONE." 

words    cut    in  the   stone   over   the  basin; 
they  said,  "  Give  thanks."     And  the  water 


H4  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

tinkled  into  the  basin,  and  rippled  over  its 
edge,  and  bubbled  always  the  same  words, 
"  Give  thanks,  give  thanks,  give  thanks  !  " 
There  was  a  door  in  the  wall  at  each 
end  of  the  courtyard,  and  the  rector  took 
Miss  Nancy  slowly  round  the  old  building. 
The  farmyard  was  on  the  north  side, 
empty  save  for  the  corner  occupied  by  the 
shepherd  of  the  flocks  on  the  uplands. 
On  the  east  side  the  meadow  came  un- 
broken to  the  walls  of  the  house,  and  the 
sheep  had  come  down  from  the  high  past- 
ures, and  through  the  fallen  fence  of  the 
hanging  birch-wood,  to  cluster  under  the 
windows ;  while  overhead  the  nests  of  the 
swallows  clustered  also,  and  hung  down 
one  beneath  another  under  the  eaves. 
Miss  Nancy  thought  that  she  would 
rather  have  tall  dog-daisies,  and  waving 
meadow-grass,  and  a  soft  cluster  of  sheep 
close  under  her  windows,  and  swallows 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  415 

chattering  above  it,  than  even  elm-trees 
and  rooks. 

The  garden  lay  on  the  south  side,  a 
wilderness  of  mossy  apple-trees  and  over- 
grown bushes,  and  under  the  windows  of 
the  house  a  tangle  of  old  herbs  and 
flowers,  with  the  great  "  Portingale  " 
against  the  wall  high  overhead. 

The  rector  and  Miss  Nancy  rambled 
back  into  the  sunny  courtyard,  and  stood 
to  look  at  the  house,  with  its  doorway  so 
deep  and  wide  that  it  was  a  room  in  it- 
self, and  its  latticed  windows  in  projecting 
bays,  with  gables  overhead.  There  grew 
garlands  of  old  pale-pink  roses,  so  loose- 
blowing  that  they  were  more  single  than 
double,  and  under  the  windows  great 
bushes  of  fuschia  and  Jew's-mallow.  But 
Miss  Nancy  was  looking  chiefly  at  the 
doorway,  and  at  the  great  oak  beam  over 
it,  for  there  were  words  cut  in  it. 


Il6  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

"  In  the  Yeare  of  Our  Lorde 

Given  unto  God's  Poore  for  ever, 
In  token  of  the  Thankful  Heart. 
Amen." 

"  You  cannot  go  inside,  can  you  ? " 
whispered  Miss  Nancy. 

"  We  will  go  in,  if  you  like,"  said  the 
rector.  "  The  shepherd's  wife  will  bring 
the  key.  But  I  think  you  will  find  it  a 
melancholy  place,  my  little  maid." 

The  door  opened  into  the  hall,  with  its 
walls  panelled  in  oak,  and  its  ceiling  of 
oak  cut  into  octagons  by  the  beams,  and 
its  broad  staircase  with  shallow  steps. 
There  were  benches  against  the  wall  on 
either  side,  and  in  the  middle  was  a  black 
oak  table,  plain  and  massive ;  for  this 
was  the  place  where  God's  poor  had  been 
wont  to  dine  together.  But  it  was  very 
chill,  and  bare,  and  empty,  and  Miss 
Nancy  shivered. 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  117 

What  she  had  expected  to  find  she  did 
not  know  herself,  but  she  had  had  ex- 
pectations. Yet,  alas !  which  of  us  in 
attaining  his  desire  finds  it  to  be  entirely 
what  he  thought?  Which  of  us,  at  last 
reaching  up  to  success,  does  not  sigh 
after  all?  It  is  doubtless  well  so;  it  may 
be  a  sense  beyond  our  own  control ;  it 
may  even  be  that  it  comes  from  above, 
and  would  thither  return,  where  there  are 
neither  strivings  nor  shortcomings. 

But  it  was  certain  that  from  the  mo- 
ment of  crossing  the  threshold  Miss 
Nancy's  dream  began  to  be  troubled. 
The  rector  led  the  way,  and  she  crept 
after  him,  into  one  empty  room  after 
another,  with  lattices  long  closed,  where 
the  dawn  looked  in  morning  after  morn- 
ing, doors  long  open,  where  the  sunset 
shone  through  into  the  passages  evening 
after  evening,  and  hearths  long  closed, 


n8  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

where  no  light  fell ;  down  passages  where 
a  footfall  echoed  strangely;  into  rooms 
overhead,  with  gable  windows  looking 
out  on  the  quiet  meadows,  and  lattices  of 
yellow  light  on  the  bare  walls,  and  floors 
that  creaked  mournfully  beneath  the 
tread ;  and  down  the  staircase  that  was 
still,  and  yet  not  silent,  and  into  the  hall 
again,  from  which  the  spirit  of  the  old 
days  had  fled.  And  it  was  very  chill,  and 
bare,  and  empty;  and  Miss  Nancy  shiv- 
ered eeriely,  and  awoke  from  her  dream. 

The  rector  turned  towards  the  door, 
but  Miss  Nancy  did  not  beg  even  a  few 
minutes'  grace;  she  only  followed  very 
silently.  She  was  thinking,  in  a  desolate 
way,  of  a  confused  multitude  of  things, 
but  principally  she  remembered  that  the 
sun-bonnet  had  been  uncomfortably  stiff, 
and  the  strings  a  degree  too  tight,  when 
she  set  out  on  her  walk,  and  she  was 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  119 

beginning  to  wonder  now  whether  she 
could  bear  it  much  longer.  Poor  little 
Miss  Nancy  !  If  her  disappointments  had 
been  hard  to  bear,  the  awaking  from  her 
dream  was  far,  far  harder. 

But  that  empty  page,  so  unspeakably 
drearier  than  any  written  one,  however 
crabbed,  must  be  turned  over  with  the 
others,  when  its  time  comes ;  only  at  ten 
years  old  one's  philosophy  cannot  bear 
a  very  heavy  strain,  and  the  sight  of  the 
sleepy  courtyard  brought  back  the  poor, 
foolish  old  dream  so  pitifully,  that  Miss 
Nancy  felt  that  she  must  either  untie  the 
strings  of  her  bonnet,  or  choke.  Nothing 
seemed  to  care ;  the  water  rippled  in  the 
gray  basin,  and  the  pigeons  fluttered 
round  the  dovecotes,  and  nestled  in  the 
yellow  light,  and  the  sheep  bleated  faintly 
on  the  uplands,  and  the  larks  sang  high 
over  the  meadow. 


120  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

And  so  Miss  Nancy  suddenly  and  in- 
explicably burst  into  bitter  tears. 

"What,  Nancy?"  said  the  astonished 
rector.  "  Have  you  hurt  yourself?  Are 
you  tired?  What  is  the  matter?  " 

"I  cannot  bear  it,  I  cannot  bear  it!" 
cried  Miss  Nancy.  "  I  had  meant  so  hard 
to  be  good,  but  I  cannot  bear  it  any 
more !  " 

"  Bear  what,  my  dear  little  maid?  "  said 
the  rector,  much  concerned. 

"  I  loved  it  so  much,  and  I  wanted  to 
come  to  it  more  than  anything.  Oh,  I 
did,  I  did  !  " 

"  And  now  you  are  disappointed  in 
it?"  said  the  rector,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  all  Miss  Nancy 
could  reply  between  the  sobs. 

"  But  I  thought  you  understood  that  it 
was  only  an  empty  old  house,  Nancy?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  didn't  think  it  would 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  121 

be  like  that,"  sobbed  Miss  Nancy.  "  And 
there  is  nobody  there  at  all,  and  yet  it 
says  over  the  door  that  it  was  given  to 
God's  poor,  —  it  says  for  ever."  \ 

"  Yes,  my  little  maid,"  said  the  rector, 
slowly.  "  It  was  given  to  God's  poor 
forever,  —  to  the  poor  of  Forest  Morton 
parish.  But  that  is  the  sad  part  that  I 
told  you  of.  The  endowment  failed  long 
ago ;  I  mean,  Nancy,  that  there  is  no 
longer  any  money  with  which  to  support 
the  old  house." 

"  Then  it  is  no  use  that  the  Thankful 
Heart  was  given,  and  it  is  all  lost,  and  I 
am  sorrier  than  ever." 

"  And  yet,  I  would  say,  not  lost," 
replied  the  rector,  pacing  the  courtyard. 
"  The  spirit  of  the  gift  is  more  than  the 
gift  itself,  my  little  maid,  and  that  can 
never  be  lost,  having  passed  once  for  all 
beyond  us  and  our  marring." 


122  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OK, 

"  But  what  is  it?"  said  Miss  Nancy,  try- 
ing to  suspend  her  sobs. 

"  I  mean  the  deep  thought  of  the  heart, 
with  which  the  gift  was  given,  Nancy." 

"  I  think  I  begin  to  know  it,"  said  Miss 
Nancy,  "  only  I  cannot  say  it.  It  means 
that  nothing  could  ever  take  away  that  it 
was  given  once." 

And  the  rector  bent  his  head,  and  said, 
"  In  token  of  the  Thankful  Heart.  Amen." 

He  sat  down  on  one  of  the  benches 
under  the  lattices,  and  Miss  Nancy  sat 
beside  him,  and  wiped  her  eyes,  with  a 
vague  sense,  however  little  understood, 
of  a  quiet  consolation.  The  water  still 
rippled  in  the  basin,  and  the  larks  sang 
above  the  buttercup  meadow,  but  it 
seemed  with  another  note,  and  there  was 
a  deeper  rest  in  the  peace  of  the  Thankful 
Heart. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  Nancy,"  said  the 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


123 


rector,  "  there  was  a  man,  an  old  man, 
who  had  almost  come  to  the  end  of  his 
days.  He  sat  at  his  open  window  on  a 
midsummer  evening,  —  yes,  it  might  have 
been  such  an  evening  as  this.  His  work 
lay  on  the  bench  before  him,  but  his  tools 
were  still,  for  he  was  dreaming;  and  he 
saw,  as  if  they  had  been  pictures,  scenes 
that  had  been  long  ago. 

"  He  saw  a  picture  in  a  forest,  the  heart 
of  a  forest,  where  the  deer  and  the  squir- 
rels lived,  and  it  was  cool,  and  green,  and 
still.  There  stood  two  boys,  about  the 
same  age,  but  alike  in  nothing  else,  for 
one  was  the  young  squire,  and  the  other 
was  a  peasant  boy,  bareheaded,  bare- 
footed, and  ragged.  He  stood  looking 
down,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
the  sunshine  fell  between  the  trees  on 
both  alike,  —  on  the  young  squire  and  on 
the  ragged  peasant  boy. 


124  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

"'  But  show  me  what  you  were  doing,' 
said  the  young  squire. 

"  '  I  was  cutting,'  said  the  boy,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  '  Yes,  I  saw,  but  show  it  to  me.' 

"  The  boy  drew  his  hands  from  behind 
his  back,  slowly  and  unwillingly,  and 
showed  the  piece  of  wood  they  held. 

"The  young  squire  cried  out  when  he 
saw  it,  '  Have  you  done  this  ?  How  did 
you  do  it?  ' 

"  '  I  have  a  knife  of  my  own/  said  the 
ragged  boy,  and  he  held  it  out  proudly  in 
his  hand  — poor  boy,  it  was  such  a  knife  ! 

"  '  But  you  could  not  carve  with  a  thing 
like  that,'  said  the  young  squire. 

" '  My  knife  is  a  very  good  one,'  replied 
the  boy,  with  a  glow  on  his  brown  cheeks. 
'  Give  me  my  wood  back.  I  can  make  it 
better  than  it  is.' 

"  '  I  think  it  is   beautiful  already,'  said 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  125 

the  young  squire,  simply.  '  It  is  the 
Good  Shepherd,  is  it  not  ? ' 

"  'What  Shepherd?' 

"  '  I  mean  the  Good  Shepherd  Jesus.' 

"  '  I  do  not  know  what  you  say.  When 
my  father  was  alive,  he  was  a  woodman 
under  the  old  squire,  and  I  had  clothes, 
and  my  mother  was  there,  and  once  I 
went  to  the  church  with  her,  a  long  time 
ago.  I  saw  it  then.  A  Man  with  a  lamb 
on  His  shoulder.' " 

"  It  would  be  like  the  picture  in  the 
window  in  this  church,  I  suppose  ?"  said 
Miss  Nancy. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  rector;  "no  doubt 
it  would  be  like  that.  '  And  you  have 
remembered  it  so  long  ? '  said  the  young 
squire.  '  How  clever  you  must  be ! 
Now,  I  am  not  clever  at  all.  If  only  you 
might  learn  reading,  and  writing,  and 
Latin  in  my  place !  But  I  know  what  I 


126  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

shall  do,  I  shall  bring  the  priest  here  to 
look  at  your  carving.  If  you  will  be  here 
to-morrow,  I  will  bring  you  a  new  knife.' 

"  The  squire  kept  his  word ;  he  brought 
the  knife  in  one  hand,  and  dragged  the 
fewest  with  the  other.  The  boy,  too,  was 
there;  and  the  grave  young  priest  took 
the  carved  figure  in  his  hands,  and  looked 
at  it,  and  was  silent  for  a  long  time. 

" '  My  boy,'  he  said  at  last,  and  he 
spoke  in  a  very  gentle  voice,  —  '  my  boy, 
do  you  know  the  old  carpenter  who  lives 
near  the  church? ' 

"  '  Him  who  buys  the  squire's  trees,  and 
makes  things  of  wood?  '  said  the  boy. 

"'Yes,  the  old  carpenter.  You  shall  go 
to  him,  and  learn  his  craft;  for  God  who 
gave  you  those  hands  to  work  with  never 
meant  you  to  be  only  a  vagabond  on  the 
face  of  the  earth ;  surely  He  designed 
you  to  be  something  better.' 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  127 

"  The  old  man  saw  another  picture.  The 
ragged  boy  presented  himself  one  morn- 
ing at  the  old  carpenter's  door,  with  his 
ragged  tunic,  and  bare  head  and  feet;  if 
it  had  cost  him  anything  to  leave  the 
forest  and  his  freedom,  he  never  told  it. 

"  But  now  began  a  new  life  for  him.  He 
learnt  more  quickly  than  the  old  car- 
penter could  teach ;  it  seemed  as  if  he 
knew  the  natures  of  the  dead  woods  by 
instinct,  as  he  had  known  the  living  trees 
in  the  forest. 

" '  But  now  you  must  put  aside  those 
carved  toys  that  are  always  in  your 
fingers,'  grumbled  the  old  carpenter; 
'  you  will  never  make  a  good  workman  if 
you  waste  your  time  over  them.'  But  he 
was  very  kind  to  the  boy  nevertheless,  and 
he  learned  to  love  him  very  dearly,  for  his 
own  children  were  all  dead.  They  went 
to  church  together,  and  the  boy  sat  and 


128  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

looked  up  with  his  deep  bright  eyes  at  the 
beams  of  the  roof,  and  at  the  pillars,  and 
arches,  and  the  pale  pictures  in  the 
windows. 

"  The  young  squire  was  his  fast  friend, 
until  he  went  away  from  the  village ;  but 
the  priest  did  not  go  away,  and  it  was  he 
who  taught  him  to  read  and  write,  and 
taught  him  the  catechism  and  the  Psalms, 
and  indeed  taught  him  many  things ;  but 
he  did  not  need  to  teach  him  the 
knowledge  that  comes  of  the  seeing  eye, 
and  the  reverence  that  comes  of  a  believ- 
ing heart,  for  he  had  learnt  those  things 
in  the  school  of  the  forest,  and  his 
teacher  had  been  none  other  than  God 
himself. 

"  The  old  man  saw  another  picture.  The 
young  squire  had  come  home ;  they  said 
he  was  to  be  married.  He  came  to  see 
the  boy,  for  he  had  never  forgotten  him ; 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART. 


129 


and  he  walked  with  the  priest  through  the 
meadows.  It  was  evening,  and  the  old 
carpenter  sat  at  his  door. 

"  '  He  has  finished  his  work,'  he  said. 
"  He  has  gone  up  to  the  little  room  in  the 
gable,  for  he  is  often  there,  but  why,  I 
cannot  tell.  Let  us  go  up  and  find  him.' 

"  They  went  upstairs  to  the  little  room  ; 
they  pushed  open  the  door  and  went  in. 
The  boy  was  a  boy  no  longer,  but  a  tall 
young  man ;  he  was  standing  up  to  stretch 
his  arms,  and  the  light  shone  full  on  his 
face,  the  same  face  as  of  old,  with  marvel- 
lous deep  eyes,  and  earnest  lips  which 
nevertheless  smiled.  His  chisel  was  in 
his  hand,  and  his  work  before  him,  a 
panel  of  English  oak,  traced  over  with  a 
wonderful  fret  of  leaves  and  flowers,  a 
part  carved  in  relief,  and  the  rest  still 
drawn  in  charcoal.  His  tools  lay  on  a 
stool  beside  him,  very  few  and  simple,  for 


130  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

the  power  was  in  his  own  hands,  not  in 
the  tools  they  held ;  the  wall  before  him 
was  covered  with  his  designs,  drawn  in 
charcoal,  after  his  only  teaching,  which  he 
had  found  in  the  school  of  the  forest. 
But  there  was  love,  and  patience,  and 
reverence  in  every  line,  drawn  again  and 
again,  and  yet  again,  until  the  artist  hand 
could  execute  what  the  faithful  eye  could 
see. 

"  '  It  is  wonderful !  '  said  the  priest. 

"  '  It  is  most  beautiful ! '  said  the  squire, 
for  he  thought  that  the  priest  spoke  of  the 
work.  '  You  were  born  a  great  carver, 
and  now  you  shall  go  to  London  and 
work  there.' 

" '  Yes,  you  shall  go  to  London,'  said 
the  priest. 

"  But  the  carver  looked  at  the  old  car- 
penter, and  his  eyes  fell.  And  there  was 
a  long  silence,  until  at  last  the  old  man 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  13! 

said,  in  a  broken  voice,  '  Yes,  you  shall 
go.  You  shall  go.' 

"  The  old  man  saw  another  picture.  The 
young  carver  was  setting  out  from  the 
door,  with  his  little  bundle  over  his  shoul- 
der. The  old  carpenter  blessed  him,  and 
let  him  go,  without  a  word  to  stay  him ; 
but  whenever  the  young  man  turned 
round,  the  old  one  was  still  looking  after 
him,  until  at  last  he  went  over  the  brow  of 
the  hill.  And  then  the  old  carpenter 
turned  away  sadly.  '  How  could  I  stay 
him?  He,  too,  is  gone,'  he  said;  and  he 
went  into  his  house  and  shut  the  door. 

"  But  after  it  was  dusk  in  the  evening, 
there  came  a  gentle  knocking  at  the  door, 
and  when  he  opened  it,  the  carver  stood 
upon  the  threshold. 

" '  Master,  I  have  returned,'  he  said. 

"  '  To  stay  yet  another  night,  dear  son  ?  ' 
said  the  old  man,  trembling. 


132  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

"  '  Even  to  the  end/  said  he. 

"  '  My  son?  '  said  the  old  man,  trembling 
more. 

"  '  I  am  resolved/  he  answered,  and  his 
face  against  the  sky  was  very  pale. 

" '  God  reward  you,  my  son  ! '  replied  the 
old  man,  weeping,  '  seeing  that  I  never  can.' 

"  He  only  bowed  his  head,  and  said  with- 
in himself,  '  Nay  rather,  God  give  me 
grace  still  to  thank  him/ 

"  He  said  to  the  squire,  '  He  has  given 
me  so  much,  that  I  may  surely  give  back 
to  him,  even  if  it  be  only  giving  up/ 

"But  that,  my  little  maid,  is  a  hard  thing 
to  give,  —  yes,  the  hardest  of  all.  And 
doubtless  the  priest  knew  it,  for  he  only 
said,  '  It  is  by  the  grace  of  God/  " 

"  I  love  him  for  coming  back,"  said 
Miss  Nancy,  sadly ;  "  but  I  wish  he  might 
have  gone  to  be  a  great  carver.  It  wasn't 
a  wrong  thing  to  want,  was  it?  " 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


133 


"  No,  it  was  not  wrong,  my  little  maid. 
It  was  good  to  desire  it,  but  to  so  give  it 
up  was  far,  far  better.  And  that  picture 
stayed  a  long  time  before  the  old  man's 
eyes,  and  he  dreamed  over  it.  He  saw 
the  carver  go  up  to  the  room  in  the  gable, 
and  look  at  his  work,  and  turn  its  face  to 
the  wall,  and  go  out  again.  He  saw  him 
toiling  day  by  day  in  the  workroom 
below,  for  now  it  was  he  who  supported 
the  old  carpenter ;  and  he  thought  of  him 
always  there  in  the  same  place,  until  ten 
long  years  were  past.  Until  one  evening 
the  old  carpenter  said,  '  Now  you  shall 
soon  have  your  release.  Come  and  let 
me  bless  you,  good  son.'  And  in  that 
night  the  old  carpenter  died.  .  .  . 

"  The  old  man  saw  another  picture.  Now 
the  carver  was  setting  out  at  last  to  seek 
his  fortune  in  earnest.  And  the  old  man 
saw  that  the  priest  and  the  squire  walked 


134  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

with  him  to  the  highway,  and  bade  him  fare- 
well, and  stood  to  watch  him  until  he  had 
gone  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  but  he 
did  not  hear  what  they  said.  '  God  bless 
him  !  '  said  the  squire.  '  If  he  had  gone 
ten  years  ago,  he  might  have  been  a  great 
man.' 

"'  He  will  yet  be  a  great  man,'  said  the 
priest,  and  mused.  '  Perchance  in  God's 
sight  he  is  already  great.' 

"  And  they  went  home,  and  thought  of 
him  when  the  evening  fell.  But  sunrise 
came,  and  sunset,  and  moon  followed 
moon,  and  summer  and  winter  went  by, 
and  so  the  years  passed. 

"  But  the  old  man  saw  the  carver  go  out 
into  the  world  to  seek  his  fortune,  and  saw 
him  find  it,  for  it  was  to  work  with  all  his 
heart,  as  a  man  should  work ;  and  he  went 
here  and  there,  and  many  things  befell 
him." 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  135 

"  And  did  he  come  to  be  a  great 
carver?"  said  Miss  Nancy. 

"  He  did,  my  little  maid,  though  suc- 
cess, as  we  account  it,  only  came  to  him 
late  in  life ;  and  men  said  he  had  begun 
too  late.  Not  so ;  he  had  waited  for 
God's  time  with  a  noble  patience.  Did 
he  value  the  success  when  it  did  come, 
as  he  would  have  done  when  he  was 
young?  Ah,  that  I  cannot  tell ;  but  in  his 
day  he  was  a  carver,  as  some  say,  never 
equalled,  and  as  all  say,  never  surpassed, 
though  perhaps  it  was  only  after  his  death 
that  men  came  fully  to  this  understand- 
ing. And  at  last  he  would  stay  no  longer 
to  work  in  cities,  for  he  had  through  all 
this  latter  part  of  his  life  an  exceeding 
great  longing  to  see  the  green  forest  once 
more,  and,  if  it  might  be,  to  lie  down  un- 
der the  shadow  of  the  church." 

"  He  must  have  grown  old,  I  suppose?" 


136  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

said  Miss  Nancy,  wistfully.  "  But  generally 
in  tales  the  people  who  seek  their  fortune 
find  it  before  they  grow  old." 

"  Yes,  he  had  grown  old,"  said  the 
rector.  "  That  is,  as  we  count  years. 
But  one  is  fashioned  after  this  manner, 
and  another  after  that,  and  thanks  be  to 
the  good  Fashioner  of  all,  there  are  some 
who  never  grow  old.  And  so  at  last  the 
carver  set  his  face  homeward  along  the 
old  highway,  and  began  to  bring  his  ad- 
ventures to  an  end.  .  .  . 

41  The  old  man  saw  another  picture.  He 
saw  the  carver  walking  with  the  old  priest 
and  the  squire  through  the  long  grass  of 
the  meadows  to  the  house  by  the  church. 
They  found  only  a  habitation  for  owls  and 
bats  ;  but  the  carver  bought  the  house  and 
rebuilt  it.  He  went  up  to  the  room  in 
the  gable,  and  found  the  half-finished 
panel,  gray  with  dust  and  cobwebs,  still 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART.  137 

turned  with  its  face  to  the  wall,  as  he  had 
left  it  so  many  years  ago.  He  said,  'This 
was  begun  at  the  entering  of  my  life,  for 
the  love  of  the  beautiful  earth  beneath  ;  it 
shall  be  finished  at  the  close,  for  the  love 
of  the  fairer  heaven  above.' 

"  And  so  he  began  the  famous  twelve 
apostle  panels,  as  all  men  said,  his  best 
work,  and,  as  he  said,  his  dearest.  It  was 
also  his  last ;  for  the  time  began  to  draw 
near  when  he  should  bring  his  steadfast 
life  to  a  good  ending. 

"  And  so  the  old  carver  awoke  from  his 
dreams,  and  thought  upon  his  life,  and 
gave  God  thanks  for  it. 

"  A  shadow  fell  through  the  doorway. 
It  was  the  aged  priest  and  the  squire,  who 
came  to  sit  with  him,  as  they  so  often  did 
in  the  evening. 

"'Is  the  work  finished?'  said  the 
priest. 


138  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OK, 

"'Almost,'  he  answered ;  'this  evening 
it  will  be  finished.' 

"  And  so  the  three  old  men  sat  at  the 
open  window,  and  talked  of  what  had  been 
in  the  old  time,  and  of  what  might  be 
when  time  should  be  no  more.  And  sud- 
denly the  carver  raised  his  head  from  his 
work,  and  said,  '  I  go  first.  Last  night  I 
dreamed  of  a  fair  stream.' 

"  And  they  were  silent,  knowing  that  to 
dream  of  a  fair  stream  is  a  sign  of  coming 
death. 

"  The  priest  said,  '  Was  that  a  happy 
dream?  ' 

"  The  carver  answered,  '  I  walked  upon 
the  brink  of  the  stream,  a  stream  all 
peaceful,  flowing  full  between  green  reeds- 
And  once  more  I  was  a  child  again ;  and 
I  beheld  the  Good  Shepherd,  even  as  I 
thought  of  Him  when  I  was  a  child,  com- 
ing through  the  lilies  in  the  grass,  with 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  139 

little  children,  as  it  were  lambs,  gathered 
about  Him.  He  said,  "  Thou  hast  learned 
a  while  in  My  school.  My  child,  now  see 
the  end  of  thy  learning,"  and  I  awoke. 
It  was  a  blessed  dream.' 

"  '  Only  may  this  work  be  first  finished,' 
said  the  priest. 

"  '  It  is  finished  even  now,'  he  said  ;  and 
he  laid  down  his  tools  for  the  last  time. 

"  It  lay  complete  before  them,  twelve 
panels  of  oak,  wrought  as  men  had  never 
seen  the  like  in  all  the  countryside,  for 
that  great  master  had  spent  upon  them  all 
the  gathered  skill,  and  patience,  and  love 
of  a  lifetime.  Upon  each  panel  the  figure 
of  a  holy  apostle  ;  and  round  about  a  fret  of 
leaves  and  flowers,  as  it  were  for  beauty ; 
and  at  the  foot  of  each  panel  a  border  of 
corn,  for  service ;  and  above  each  an  angel's 
head  with  wings,  for  praise,  and  in  his  hands 
a  palm  for  victory ;  and  humbly  wrought 


140  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

in  a  hidden  corner  the  sign  of  the  carver's 
own  hand,  a  heart,  as  it  were  for  thanks- 
giving. 

"  '  It  is  finished,'  he  said.  '  I  have  not 
achieved  the  half  I  had  designed  to  do  ; 
but  He  who  has  deigned  to  have  need  of 
my  work,  will  also  call  me  there,  where, 
having  here  learned  awhile,  I  may  in 
fuller  knowledge  make  an  end.' 

"  And  he  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"  They  said  it  was  granted  to  him  then 
to  see  a  vision.  It  might  have  been  that 
the  eyes  which  had  not  failed  to  discern 
the  beauty  of  God  as  it  is  on  earth  were 
opened  then  to  behold  it  as  it  is  where 
we  all  would  be  at  the  last;  I  cannot  tell, 
only  after  a  moment  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

"  '  My  God,  I  thank  thee,'  he  said,  and 
laid  his  head  down  upon  his  work,  and 
died." 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


141 


"  I  think  it  is  a  little  sorrowful,"  said 
Miss  Nancy ;  "  but  perhaps  it  is  more 
happier  than  more  sorrowfuller.  And  is 
that  quite  all?" 

"  There  is  little  more,"  said  the  rec- 
tor. 

"  The  old  priest  who  loved  him  so 
much  wrote  about  his  life ;  and  he  said 
that  he  and  the  squire  knew  not  whether 
they  had  more  grief  or  joy  for  his 
end." 

"  And  does  the  story  tell  what  they  did 
after  it?" 

"  A  little  more,"  said  the  rector  again. 

"  He  had  prayed  them  to  let  him  lie 
very  near  the  church,  for  he  had  loved 
that  little  church  in  the  shadow  of  the 
green  forest  most  of  any  place  on  earth. 
So  they  buried  him  there,  not  without 
the  walls,  but  within,  for  the  priest  said, 
he  was  the  best  of  all  men  he  ever  knew ; 


142  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

and  the  squire  set  a  beautiful  figure  of 
the  carver  there  upon  the  tomb  in  the 
church,  that  it  should  be  well  seen  how  he 
had  worshipped  God  in  life,  and  now  wor- 
shipped him  yet  more  worthily  after 
death." 

"  And  is  that  quite,  quite  all?  " 
"Almost,  my  little  maid,"  answered  the 
rector,  slowly.  "  He  had  disposed  of  all 
that  he  had,  as  men  dispose  before  they 
die ;  and  they  read  what  he  had  written. 
He  gave  to  his  friends,  the  priest  and 
the  squire,  what  keepsakes  they  might 
choose,  in  memory  of  the  love  he  bore 
them.  .  .  .  He  gave  the  twelve 
apostle  panels,  his  last  and  dearest  work, 
to  the  church  he  had  loved  so  well. 
He  gave  his  house  and  his 
goods  to  God's  poor  forever. 
And  as  he  humbly  prayed  God  to  re- 
ceive, though  so  unworthy  of  his  merciful 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  143 

receiving,  all  that  now  was  left  to  him,  — 
his  thankful  heart." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  whispered  Miss 
Nancy,  —  "I  know.  It  was  Master  Bart- 
lemy." 


MASTER    BARTLEMY  ;     OR, 


VIII. 

JT  was  a  hard  winter,  the  hardest  in  the 
memory  of  Grandfy  Purcell,  the  oldest 
inhabitant  of  Forest  Morton  parish.  The 
frost  had  set  in  before  Christmas,  and 
though  the  New  Year  had  long  since 
come,  it  still  bit  the  harder,  in  defiance  of 
all  old  saws. 

The  world  and  the  weather  both  were 
gloomy  faces  for  Miss  Nancy.  Aunt 
Norreys  had  gone  to  pay  a  solemn  visit, 
"  to  the  Lester  Norreys,  my  dear,"  and 
had  insisted  upon  the  reluctant  squire 
going  also.  A  regency  had  been  formed 
at  the  hall,  with  Mrs.  Plummett  at  the 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  145 

head  of  the  household,  Trimmer  being 
always  at  the  head  of  the  brown  parlor ; 
and  Miss  Nancy  had  been  put  upon  her 
honor  as  regarded  her  behavior. 

She  looked  upon  this  separation  from 
daddy  in  a  very  serious  light,  and  since 
his  departure  she  had  conducted  herself  in 
a  correspondingly  serious  manner;  but 
life  must  be  lived  even  after  partings,  and 
Miss  Nancy  had  never  forgotten  that  her 
behavior  was  to  be  based  on  the  grounds 
of  honor.  But  the  days  passed  very 
slowly,  and  Trimmer  did  not  feel  sure  that 
she  did  not  flag  more  as  time  went  on, 
instead  of  less. 

It  was  indeed  a  hard  winter.  All  after- 
noon from  the  window  of  the  brown  par- 
lor Miss  Nancy  watched  the  snow  falling, 
until  there  was  a  white  mantle  over  the 
Hall  fields,  and  a  deep  drift  blown  under 
the  elm-trees.  The  rooks,  with  melan- 


146  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

choly  cawings,  had  early  retired  to  rest, 
before  the  red  sun  had  set,  and  the  moon 
had  risen  over  the  hawthorn  copse ;  at 
which  point  Trimmer  had  insisted  on  the 
curtains  being  drawn,  and  Miss  Nancy 
coming  to  tea. 

Miss  Nancy  and  Trimmer  sat  at  tea, 
one  at  each  end  of  the  spindle-legged 
table  with  round  leaves,  Trimmer  mellow- 
ing over  her  second  cup  of  tea,  and  Miss 
Nancy  plodding  through  her  bread  and 
butter  with  perhaps  more  conscientious- 
ness than  enjoyment,  very  good,  as  she 
had  been  throughout  the  regency,  but 
also  very  quiet. 

"  Why,  Miss  Nancy,  you  have  not 
finished  your  tea  yet,"  said  Trimmer 
looking  up  at  last. 

"  I  think  I  do  not  want  this  tea  much," 
said  Miss  Nancy,  laying  down  a  horned 
moon  of  bread  and  butter.  "  I  feel 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


147 


very  sorrowful  with  dear  daddy  being 
away." 

"  Well,  he  will  soon  be  home  now. 
Finish  your  tea,  Miss  Nancy." 

Miss  Nancy  picked  up  her  crescent 
sadly,  regarded  it  with  but  small  interest, 
and  took  a  slow  bite. 

"  And  make  haste,"  said  Trimmer ; 
"  see  what  a  long  time  you  have  been." 

"  I  think  I  do  not  want  it  at  all,  Trim- 
mer," said  Miss  Nancy,  laying  it  down 
again. 

"  Oh,  the  idea  !  "  said  Trimmer,  simu- 
lating an  incredulous  astonishment,  Miss 
Nancy's  appetite  being  a  small  thing  at 
the  best,  and  a  diminution  of  it  a  point 
to  be  elaborately  ignored.  "  Miss  Nancy, 
eat  it  up  directly !  " 

Thus  adjured,  Miss  Nancy  at  last  dis- 
posed of  it ;  and  grace  having  been  said, 
Trimmer  betook  herself  to  her  knitting, 


148  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

and  Miss  Nancy  to  that  one  of  the  stern 
wooden  chairs  which  seemed  the  most 
yielding,  and  established  herself  at  the 
spindle-legged  table  with  "Original  Tales 
of  a  Moral  Tendency  for  Young  Ladies 
and  Gentlemen."  The  firelight  lit  up  the 
formal  old  room,  and  cast  a  friendly 
glance  upon  the  brown  walls,  and  touched 
the  polished  chairs  here  and  there,  and 
warmed  the  brass  balls  of  the  clock 
into  a  silver  glow.  The  clock  wheezed 
and  the  fire  crackled,  the  gray  cat  snored 
on  the  hearth  and  the  wind  moaned  in 
the  elms  outside,  but  Miss  Nancy  was 
very  still.  In  point  of  fact,  when  Trim- 
mer looked  at  her,  her  head  was  laid 
down  on  the  tales  of  moral  tendency,  and 
her  eyes  were  closed. 

"  Miss  Nancy,  what  are  you  doing  to  fall 
asleep  over  your  reading  ?  "  said  Trimmer. 
"  Bed  is  the  place  for  going  to  sleep." 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  149 

"I  want  to  go  to  sleep  here  —  just  here," 
said  Miss  Nancy,  with  feeble  dignity,  her 
eyes  opening  and  closing  again. 

"  Oh,  but  that  is  quite  impossible,"  said 
Trimmer,  briskly.  "  You  will  have  a 
headache,  Miss  Nancy,  so  sit  up." 

Miss  Nancy  raised  her  head,  and  rested 
it  on  her  hand ;  the  firelight  fell  on  her 
face,  and  Trimmer  looked  at  it  over  her 
knitting.  "  Miss  Nancy,"  she  said  pres- 
ently, laying  down  her  work,  "  do  you 
think  you  would  like  to  go  to  bed?  " 

Miss  Nancy  nodded  wearily. 

"  Because  you  may,  if  you  like,"  said 
Trimmer,  without  a  sign  of  surprise  at  Miss 
Nancy's  ready  assent ;  "  you  may  come 
with  me  now." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  but  did  not 
move. 

So  Trimmer  carried  her.  Miss  Nancy 
made  no  resistance ;  her  head  fell  down 


MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

on  Trimmer's  shoulder  as  if  it  were  so 
heavy  that  she  could  hold  it  up  no  longer. 
Nor  could  she  hold  it  up  even  while  she 
was  being  undressed  ;  it  seemed  to  her  as 
if  she  fell  asleep  three  distinct  times,  and 
had  three  distinct  long  sleeps  during  that 
operation.  But  she  was  put  to  bed  at 
last,  and  tucked  in  ;  and  Trimmer  sat  down 
behind  the  curtain,  with  a  candle  and  her 
knitting,  just  as  if,  Miss  Nancy  thought, 
she  were  having  a  sore  throat. 

And  then  she  fell  asleep,  and  slept  very 
heavily ;  and  when  she  woke,  it  was  very 
early  in  the  morning,  and  she  was  having 
a  sore  throat  in  good  earnest. 

"  Trimmer,  it  is  sore,  very,  very  sore," 
she  whispered. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Nancy,  I  thought  it  might 
be  going  to  be,"  said  Trimmer,  from  the 
hearth,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  Miss 
Nancy  to  wonder  what  she  was  doing 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  151 

there  at  that  time  of  day,  or  rather 
night. 

"  I  never  felt  it  like  this  before.  Oh, 
Trimmer,  do  you  think  it  will  be  worse  ?  " 

"  Don't  talk,  Miss  Nancy,  and  I  will  get 
you  something  to  drink." 

"  But,  oh,  Trimmer,"  said  Miss  Nancy, 
clasping  her  hot  fingers,  "suppose  it 
should  grow  worse  and  worse  while 
daddy  is  away." 

"  I  think  it  will  be  all  right,  Miss 
Nancy,"  said  Trimmer,  steadily.  "  I  am 
seeing  after  you.  And  your  papa  and 
your  Aunt  Norreys  will  be  coming  home 
in  a  few  days." 

Then  after  an  hour  or  two,  when  it  was 
still  quite  early  in  the  morning,  the  old 
doctor  came  from  St.  Edmunds'  to  look  at 
Miss  Nancy;  and  she  wondered  confus- 
edly if  he  had  come  just  as  it  were  by 
chance,  or  whether  Trimmer  had  sent  for 


152  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

him,  in  which  case  Miss  Nancy  believed 
that  she  must  be  quite  ill. 

After  he  was  gone  she  lay  and  tossed 
from  side  to  side,  and  fell  asleep  again, 
and  dozed  fitfully  all  day,  and  between 
the  dozes  started  up  with  her  eyes  bright 
and  her  hands  burning. 

"  Never  mind  it,  Miss  Nancy,  my  dear," 
said  Trimmer,  sitting  always  by  the  bed 
as  if  she  had  never  moved  away.  "  It  is 
only  a  bad  dream  you  have  been  hav- 
ing." 

"  I  have  been  so  afraid,"  said  Miss 
Nancy,  hoarsely.  "  Oh,  Trimmer,  has 
daddy  come  home?" 

"Not  yet,  Miss  Nancy;  I  am  expecting 
him  soon,"  said  Trimmer,  with  as  much 
composure  as  if  she  and  Mrs.  Plummett 
had  not  sent  an  urgent  message  to  the 
squire  and  Aunt  Norreys  as  soon  as  the 
doctor  had  been. 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


'53 


"  I  wish  he  would  come !  "  gasped  Miss 
Nancy. 

"  And,  oh,  my  dear,  so  do  I !  "  thought 
Trimmer. 

Miss  Nancy  dozed  again,  and  gradually 
evening  drew  on ;  she  believed  that  the 
doctor  came  then,  but  she  did  not  feel 
sure  of  it.  She  also  believed  that  he  came 
again  some  time  after  she  had  watched  the 
first  pale  streaks  of  the  gray  morning  ap- 
pearing behind  the  elms,  after  that  long, 
unquiet  fevered  night;  but  she  could 
not  feel  sure  of  that  either,  for  her  mind 
was  in  a  very  hazy  condition.  The  morn- 
ing dragged  itself  by,  and  Miss  Nancy 
lay  and  slept,  and  moaned  a  little  in  her 
sleep,  and  before  noon  Trimmer  and  Mrs. 
Plummett  had  despatched  a  second  mes- 
senger ;  for  by  this  time  they  had  come  to 
such  a  frame  of  mind  that  they  would 
almost  have  forfeited  everything  they  had 


154  MASTER    BARTLEMY;    OR, 

in  the  world  to  have  the  squire  and  Aunt 
Norreys  at  home. 

But  Miss  Nancy  lay  and  knew  nothing 
of  all  this  uneasiness  on  her  behalf.  She 
asked  for  daddy  many  times,  in  a  hoarse, 
gasping  whisper ;  Trimmer  always  told 
her  that  he  was  coming.  But  the  after- 
noon passed,  and  the  evening  fell,  and 
darkness  came,  and  it  was  not  until  far 
into  the  night  that  Mrs.  Plummett,  strain- 
ing her  ears  miserably  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  burst  into  tears  of  thankfulness,  as 
Bailey,  stiff  with  waiting,  opened  the  door 
to  see  lights  twinkling  through  the  bare 
thorn-trees,  as  the  carriage  dashed  up  the 
drive.  But  this  haste  made  no  difference 
at  all  to  Miss  Nancy,  for  when  the  squire 
and  Aunt  Norreys  came,  she  did  not  know 
them. 

For  Miss  Nancy  was  having  dreams,  a 
great  many  of  them.  It  seemed  to  her  to 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


155 


be  one  long  night,  the  longest  she  had 
ever  known.  Sometimes  she  thought  she 
was  awake,  and  was  very  ill ;  but  this  was 
a  fancy  that  came  and  went.  The  world 
floated  hither  and  thither,  and  left  Miss 
Nancy  drifting  forlornly  by  herself;  but 
one  thing  always  remained,  and  that  was  a 
sore  throat.  How  long  it  was  dark  round 
her  bed  she  did  not  know,  but  she 
dreamed  some  very  curious  things.  She 
dreamed  not  only  about  the  old  doctor 
from  St.  Edmunds',  but  about  the  other 
doctor  from  Carchester,  and  then  about  a 
gentleman  whom  she  did  not  know. 

She  dreamed  fitfully  about  the  old 
friends  when  her  sleep  was  not  so  deep 
that  she  was  unconscious  of  anything. 
Trimmer  seemed  to  be  always  there,  and 
her  face  was  quite  white,  all  but  a  line 
under  her  eyes,  and  that  was  purple  ;  and 
Miss  Nancy  dimly  wondered  at  it,  not 


156  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

knowing  that  the  nursing  of  little  Miss 
Throgmorton  would  be  told  in  honor  of 
Trimmer  the  stern  as  long  as  she  lived. 
She  dreamed  of  Aunt  Norreys  being  by 
the  bed ;  and  once  when  she  sat  there, 
Miss  Nancy  was  almost  sure  that  she  was 
crying,  and  she  wondered  at  that  too,  not 
knowing  that  the  great  London  doctor 
believed  that  little  Miss  Throgmorton  was 
dying. 

Daddy  was  often,  often  there,  standing 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  silently,  with 
mournful  eyes ;  and  this  was  the  most 
troubled  dream  of  all.  And  when  he  was 
not  there,  he  was  sitting,  though  Miss 
Nancy  did  not  know  it,  in  his  justice-room 
downstairs,  silent  and  alone,  hour  after 
hour,  except  when  the  rector  came  to  be 
with  him. 

Nor  did  Miss  Nancy  know  that  in  those 
hours  of  her  night  when  the  great  London 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


'57 


doctor  believed  that  she  was  dying,  the 
squire  and  the  rector  sat  side  by  side  in 
the  room  below,  looking  dumbly  at  a 
pitiful  scrawl  on  the  table  before  them, 
written  on  a  leaf  of  a  copy-book,  and 
folded  across  and  found  tidily  laid  by  in 
the  cupboard  of  the  brown  parlor.  For 
this  was  poor  little  Miss  Nancy's  will,  in 
which  (struggling  with  infinite  difficulties 
of  spelling  and  penmanship)  she  had 
endeavored  to  make  a  disposition  of  all 
that  she  had,  as  men  do  before  they  die. 
And  so  she  had  devised  the  best  thing 
she  had  got  to  dear  daddy,  "  because 
of  loveing  him  most;"  and  Keep  Sakes 
to  Aunt  Norreys,  and  the  rector,  and 
Trimmer,  and  Mrs.  Plummett,  and  all  the 
servants.  And  Miss  Nancy  wished  ex- 
tremely much  that  she  had  some  Goods 
that  might  have  been  devised  unto  God's 
poor  forever,  but  was  "  afrade  "  that  she 


158  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

had  not  got  Any  Thing.  For  she  had  not 
even  got  what  she  wanted  to  have  most  of 
all ;  but  she  was  trying  to  have  it,  and 
would  go  on  trying  more  and  more,  until 
at  last  she  would  be  able,  even  in  the 
things  that  were  hard,  to  have  the  thank- 
ful heart. 

And  the  rector  and  the  squire  sat  silent 
for  a  long,  long  time ;  until  the  rector 
rested  his  face  upon  his  hands,  and  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "  Open  our  eyes,  O  Lord, 
that  we  may  see  !  Not  alone  in  our  joys 
—  even  in  the  things  that  are  hard,  give 
unto  us  also  that  thankful  heart." 

But  upstairs  the  long  night  went  on, 
and  the  dreams,  too,  went  on  and  on  ;  un- 
til at  last  there  came  one  quite  different 
from  all  the  others. 

It  was  a  dream  of  a  half-open  window, 
of  clouds  fleeting  over  the  blue  sky,  of  a 
soft  spring  wind,  of  a  sound  of  lambs 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART. 


'59 


bleating  faintly  on  the  uplands,  of  the 
rooks  cawing  to  each  other,  of  the  birds 
on  the  elm-tree  tops,  of  a  world  that  was 
new. 

And  with  that,  Miss  Nancy  awoke ;  and 
perceiving  that  her  dreams  were  over, 
naturally  concluded  that  the  long  night 
was  also  over,  and  the  morning  was 
come ;  and  looking  round  with  a  faint, 
strange  interest,  she  said  feebly,  but  quite 
clearly,  and  with  excessive  politeness, 
"  Good-morning,  Trimmer." 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  Nancy,"  replied 
Trimmer  soberly,  it  being  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon ;  but  quite  unaware  of  any 
discrepancy,  Miss  Nancy  acknowledged  the 
response  with  a  smile  of  weak  affability. 
On  which  poor  Trimmer  the  stern,  who 
had  hitherto  refused  to  permit  herself  to 
give  way  for  one  single  moment,  went 
quickly  out  to  call  Aunt  Norreys,  and 


160  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;    OR, 

retiring  to  Mrs.  Plummett's  room,  sat 
down  on  the  nearest  chair,  and  went  into 
hysterics. 

But  Miss  Nancy  presently  fell  asleep  in 
much  tranquillity,  and  slept  very  soundly 
for  a  long  time ;  and  by  and  by  she  had 
the  most  singular  dream  of  all.  For  she 
dreamed  that  the  squire  was  in  the 
room,  and  he  was  kneeling  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  as  if  he  were  saying  his 
prayers,  which  was  surely  a  very  curious 
thing  to  fancy  in  her  room.  In  her  dream 
the  door  was  a  little  open,  and  there  came 
a  footstep  falling  softly  down  the  passage, 
and  suddenly  the  rector  was  standing  out- 
side the  door.  And  then  dear  daddy 
rose  to  his  feet  and  looked  at  the  rec- 
tor, and  the  rector  tried  to  speak,  and 
could  say  nothing,  and  so  dear  daddy 
spoke. 

"  John    Throgmorton     desires    to    give 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  161 

thanks     for    great    mercies    vouchsafed  to 
him."     .      .      . 

And  so  Miss  Nancy's  waking  dream 
passed  into  a  sleeping,  and  she  thought 
she  was  in  church,  and  the  rector  was 
praying,  and  every  one  was  giving  thanks 
with  him.  And  behold,  Master  Bartlemy 
was  kneeling  under  the  sunny  window, 
with  his  hands  crossed  on  his  breast  and 
his  face  looking  upward ;  and  he  prayed, 
and  Miss  Nancy  heard  him. 

"  And  we  beseech  Thee,  give  us  that 
due  sense  of  all  Thy  mercies,  that  our 
hearts  may  be  unfeignedly  thankful,  and 
we  show  forth  Thy  praise,  not  only  with 
our  lips,  but  in  our  lives;  by  giving  up 
ourselves  to  Thy  service,  and  by  walking 
before  Thee  in  holiness  and  righteousness 
all  our  days ;  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord.  Amen." 


162  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 


IX. 

J\A  ISS  NANCY  was  convalescent.  To 
be  sure  she  did  not  quite  recover 
after  a  few  days,  as  in  the  old  manner  of 
having  a  sore  throat ;  for  she  had  been  so 
ill  on  this  occasion  that  it  had  been  confi- 
dently believed  that  she  would  never  have 
a  sore  throat  again,  or  indeed  pain  of  any 
sort  whatsoever.  She  was  nursed  for  a 
long  time  ;  but  thinking  of  what  might  have 
been,  her  friends  did  not  seem  to  mind  the 
nursing,  as  she  feared  now  and  then  they 
must  do.  Miss  Nancy  was  herself  much 
affected  by  everybody's  love  and  care ; 
she  could  never  have  supposed  that  there 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  163 

were  so  many  people  to  think  of  her, 
especially  when  she  put  her  own"  qualities 
under  a  rigorous  examination,  and  fully 
acknowledged  that  she  was  not  as  beauti- 
ful as  mother,  not  as  much  to  be  loved  as 
dear  daddy,  not  as  saintly  in  life  as  the 
rector,  not  as  perfect  in  manners  as  Aunt 
Norreys,  not  as  tidy  as  Trimmer. 

But  now  Miss  Nancy  was  more  than 
convalescent;  she  was  to  be  considered 
quite  well  again.  It  was  a  soft,  warm  day 
in  spring,  and  Miss  Nancy  was  about  to 
enjoy  the  air;  indeed,  to  take  her  first 
walk  beyond  the  garden.  Trimmer  had 
dressed  her  quite  gently;  she  had  not 
once  reproachfully  accused  her  of  having 
grown,  —  and  yet,  during  her  illness,  Miss 
Nancy  undoubtedly  had  done  so, — and 
she  had  not  even  told  her  to  mind  her 
behavior.  Miss  Nancy  thought  of  it 
afterwards,  perceiving  an  opportunity  for 


X64  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

taking  a  little  license  if  she  chose,  but 
continued  to  mind  her  behavior  all  the 
same,  because  it  did  not  seem  quite  hon- 
orable to  do  otherwise,  when  Trimmer 
had  only  forgotten  to  mention  it.  For 
this  was  a  very  great  occasion,  one  of  the 
greatest  in  Miss  Nancy's  life.  She  was 
eleven  years  old  to-day,  and  she  was  to 
accompany  the  squire  and  the  rector  on  a 
most  solemn  and  important  walk,  accord- 
ing to  a  special  request,  preferred  by  her 
on  the  excellent  grounds  of  her  birthday, 
and  granted  on  the  spot. 

They  went  slowly  through  the  Hall 
fields,  Miss  Nancy  between  her  two  tall 
companions,  with  one  thin  little  hand  in 
the  squire's  big  palm,  and  the  other  full 
of  primroses,  that  the  rector  plucked  from 
amongst  the  grass,  and  gave  to  her  for  a 
birthday  nosegay. 

So  they  went  through  the    churchyard. 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART.  165 

up  the  forgotten  little  lane,  and  along  the 
pathway  in  the  buttercup  meadow  to  the 
courtyard  of  the  Thankful  Heart.  The 
pigeons  fluttered  and  strutted  in  the  sun, 
and  the  water  rippled  in  the  basin  as  of 
old  ;  but  Miss  Nancy  stood  and  looked  up 
at  the  words  cut  in  the  oak  beam  over  the 
doorway : 

"  In  the  Yeare  of  Our  Lorde 

"Given  unto  God's  Poore  for  ever  in  Token  of  the 
Thankful  Heart.  Amen." 

And  beneath,  another  hand  had  carved 
new  words : 

"  In  the  Year  of  Our  Lord 

"John  Throgmorton  endowed  again  this  House,  by 
the  blessing  of  God,  and  the  Light  of  a  Bright  Ex- 
ample, in  Token  of  the  Thankful  Heart.  Amen." 

And  behold,  God's  poor  were  come  to 
their  own  again,  and  sat  on  the  benches  in 


1 66  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

the  sunlight,  and  took  their  rest  in  the 
peace  of  the  Thankful  Heart.  And  the 
shepherd's  wife,  installed  in  the  great 
kitchen,  stood  in  the  doorway  with  the 
children  about  her.  There  was  Grandfy 
Purcell,  the  oldest  inhabitant  of  Forest 
Morton  parish,  so  old  that  he  had,  as  he 
said,  "  lost  count  of  himself."  There  was 
his  neighbor,  piping  his  still  cheerful 
note  in  its  shaking  treble,  "  It's  old  Sam- 
u-el;  and  he's  very  much  obliged  to  you," 
while  his  head  nodded  and  his  withered 
hands  shook  in  rivalry.  There  was  Jona- 
than, with  his  dull  strain,  "  I  don't  hear 
you.  I  be  stone  deaf,  I  be."  There  was 
old  Betty,  who  had  outlived  her  home,  her 
children,  and  all  that  she  had,  and  only 
cared  now  to  gradually  sleep  herself  away, 
and  so  sat  sleeping  on,  until  she  should  be 
rested,  and  ready  to  awake  at  the  last. 
There  was  witless  Mary,  who  was  sixty 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  167 

years  old,  and  yet  was  treated  like  a  child 
of  six,  on  account  of  being  quite  simple ; 
and  yet  was  not  unhappy,  because  she  had 
never  passed  beyond  the  days  of  her  child- 
hood, and  in  this  life  never  would.  There 
was  poor  ailing  Hannah,  who  was  bowed 
almost  double  with  rheumatism,  and  would 
be  straight  no  more  again,  until,  like  the 
lame  man  of  old,  she  found  herself  outside 
the  Beautiful  Gate.  But  until  that  hour 
should  come,  she  sat  and  took  her  rest, 
with  the  others  of  God's  poor,  in  the  peace 
of  the  Thankful  Heart. 

"  And  may  we  stay  at  the  church  a 
moment?  "  asked  Miss  Nancy,  as  she  went 
homeward  through  the  meadow,  between 
the  squire  and  the  rector.  "  Because  I 
have  been  thinking  of  Master  Bartlemy  a 
good  deal  to-day,  and  I  should  like  to  give 
him  some  of  my  primroses,  if  I  might. 
For  I  am  so  very  glad  about  the  Thankful 


1 68  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

Heart;  I  think  I  feel  like  he  used  to  do, 
full  of  happiness  and  thankfulness.  Do 
you,  daddy?  " 

The  squire  did  not  speak,  perhaps  he 
could  not;  he  held  Miss  Nancy's  hand 
more  closely. 

"  My  little  maid,  we  all  have  thankful 
hearts  this  day,"  said  the  rector,  and  there 
were,  though  Miss  Nancy  did  not  see 
them,  tears  in  his  eyes. 

They  came  to  the  wicket  in  the  church- 
yard wall.  The  birds  flew  out  at  their  ap- 
proach, and  chattered  what  was  perhaps  a 
welcome  to  little  Miss  Nancy;  and  they 
went  into  the  low  green  porch,  and 
through  the  dark  church,  to  Master  Bart- 
lemy's  window.  The  sweet  wind  from  the 
uplands  stole  in  through  the  open  lattice ; 
and  it  might  have  been  the  spirit  of  spring 
bringing  Master  Bartlemy  a  message  from 
the  old  forest,  for  he  lay  and  smiled  in 


THE     THANKFUL    HEART.  169 

his  sleep.  And  so  Miss  Nancy  was  lifted 
up  with  her  primroses,  and  left  them  lying 
upon  Master  Bartlemy's  bosom,  with  the 
sunshine  upon  him,  and  upon  his  noble 
handiwork  round  about  him :  the  twelve 
apostle  panels  upon  the  walls,  wrought  so 
long  ago,  and  still  sound  and  true  as  Eng- 
lish oak  was  wont  to  be,  and  beautiful  with 
the  reverent  labor  of  those  cunning  artist 
fingers. 

Upon  each  panel  the  figure  of  a  holy 
apostle ;  and  round  about  him  the  fret  of 
leaves  and  flowers,  as  it  were  for  beauty; 
and  beneath  each  panel  the  border  of  the 
garbs  of  a  long  life,  for  service  ;  and  above, 
the  angel,  for  praise  ;  and  in  his  hand  the 
palm,  for  victory;  and  humbly  wrought  in 
a  hidden  corner,  the  sign  of  Master  Bart- 
lemy's own  hand,  the  heart,  as  it  were  for 
thanksgiving. 

Miss  Nancy  stood  with  the  squire  and 


iy0  MASTER    BARTLEMY;     OR, 

the  rector  at  the  door,  lingering  and  look- 
ing back. 

"  I  was  thinking  that  if  people  have  for- 
gotten that  Master  Bartlemy  gave  the 
Thankful  Heart,  they  would  forget  that 
dear  daddy  endowed  it  again,  and  I  was 
sorry;  but  when  I  look  at  Master  Bart- 
lemy, I  feel,"  said  Miss  Nancy, —  "I  feel 
as  if  it  would  not  matter." 

"No,  it  will  not,"  said  the  rector,  "for 
the  tablet  that  I  think  of  will  keep  forever 
the  memory  of  this  John  Throgmorton, 
who  by  the  blessing  of  God,  and  the  light 
of  a  bright  example,  endowed  again  the 
house  of  the  Thankful  Heart,  for  the  ser- 
vice of  God's  poor  forever." 

"Who  by  the  blessing  of  God,  and  the 
light  of  a  bright  example,"  repeated  Miss 
Nancy,  lovingly.  "  It  means  dear  Master 
Bartlemy,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Not  Master  Bartlemy  alone,  my  little 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART.  171 

maid,"  said  the  rector,  — "  not  Master 
Bartlemy  alone." 

"  The  light  of  all  the  good  people  who 
ever  lived?"  asked  Miss  Nancy,  wistfully. 
"  Do  they  all  leave  a  light?  " 

"  There  never  yet  was  such  a  light  lost," 
said  the  rector.  "  After  so  many  years  — 
Lord,  how  wonderful." 

"  The  sun  shines  so  beautifully  about 
Master  Bartlemy  now,"  whispered  Miss 
Nancy.  "  Don't  you  think  it  might  be  like 
his  light  shining  before  men?  " 

"  I  think  it  might,  my  little  maid,"  said 
the  rector,  "  shining  before  men  to  the 
glory  of  God.  And  if  so  clearly  here  upon 
this  earth,  how  much  more,  O  God,  in  thy 
heaven." 

And  Miss  Nancy  looked  out  beyond  the 
churchyard  trees,  at  the  blue  of  the  spring 
sky,  and  the  soft  gray  of  the  rolling  up- 
lands that  had  once  been  Morton  Forest, 


1-J2  MASTER    BARTLEMY ;     OR, 

and,  beneath  the  green  of  the  hanging 
birchwood,  the  gables  of  the  Thankful 
Heart,  where,  in  the  courtyard,  the 
pigeons  came  down,  and  fluttered  and 
strutted  for  the  very  joy  of  life,  and  the 
water  rippled,  "  Give  thanks,  give  thanks, 
give  thanks  !  "  And  God's  poor  sat  out  in 
the  sunlight,  waiting  awhile,  until  friend 
Death  should  come  to  ease  them  of  the 
burden  of  dulling  poverty  and  long  years, 
in  the  quiet  harbor  of  the  Thankful  Heart. 
And  Miss  Nancy  looked  within  again, 
upon  Master  Bartlemy,  where  he  lay  upon 
his  tomb,  and  smiled,  as  one  might  smile 
whose  name  has  passed  into  a  better  keep- 
ing than  this  of  ours.  Oh,  thou  gentle, 
God-fearing,  old  craftsman,  surely  not  for- 
gotten, seeing  thou  wert  gone  to  the  place 
where  good  men  go  when  they  die,  to  the 
place  where  the  memory  of  them  abides, 
and  there  is  no  forgetting.  Oh,  Master 


THE    THANKFUL    HEART, 


'73 


Bartlemy,  lying  there  in  ruff  and  gown,  with 
delicate  artist  hands  crossed  peacefully  on 
thy  breast ;  with  thy  sweet,  refined  face  at 
rest,  and  lips  parted  as  if  to  give  thanks 
now  and  forever,  well,  well  was  it  with 
thee,  having  brought  thy  steadfast  life  to  a 
good  ending,  —  the  steadfast  life  which 
faithfully  serves  its  generation,  and  the 
good  ending  which  leaves  behind  a  light 
to  shine  before  men,  to  the  everlasting 
glory  of  God. 


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